


Crossing the Barrier

by YamBits



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Found Family, Happy Ending, Language Barrier, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28662297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamBits/pseuds/YamBits
Summary: Sam crosses the sea, and reunites with Frodo. After waiting to speak with him for so long, Sam finds that Frodo has lost the ability to speak their common language.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins & Bilbo Baggins & Sam Gamgee, Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 36
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ☆ ☆Updates on Saturdays ☆ ☆
> 
> Hover over any Sindarin text for translations. (Mobile and tablet users please see the Ending Notes)

“Master Samwise, would you like tea before we disembark?” 

Sam turned and looked up at a fair-faced Elf who gazed kindly down at him. He couldn’t remember any of their names, but they all knew him. It was disconcerting, especially when they all towered over him and despite their best efforts to make him comfortable, he only felt uncultured, small, and very far from home. They were in the mess and Sam was seated at a small table by the window. He didn’t like to go out on the deck often and see the wide-open blue stretch around them.

“No thank you,” he said quietly, “I’ve just had a cup of miruvor. You folk sure are keen to have me take that a few times a day.” The Elf smiled. 

“It’s got you feeling strong hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sam agreed, “Though another one of you fellows told me that was from the fair air we were breathing from the Blessed Land. Another said it was the fruit of the Blessed Land we eat every morning. I’m starting to suspect you folk of telling me a tale.” The Elf laughed, delighted and Sam was glad he hadn’t caused offense. He had forgotten that many of them had known him when he was more likely to end his sentences with ‘beg your pardon sir’.

“I would guess that all the tales are true,” the Elf said, “and that we get those ideas from the other mortals that have passed this way and eaten our food, breathed the blessed air.” Sam looked up, and felt as if he had been cast back to being the little gardener lad.

“Mr. Frodo said that?” he asked. Frodo hadn’t been mentioned often back home, at least around Sam, because of his tendency to go quiet when people spoke on him, but the Elves often spoke of the Bagginses. To them, he supposed, their passing had happened very recently.

“Both Frodo Baggins and Bilbo Baggins. I was on the ship that took them to the land we are about to see.”

“And have you seen them since?” Sam asked quietly.

“I have not been back, but I had a word on them many years ago. They were both well at that time,” he said. “We will be landing within the hour. Please let me know if there is anything you require sir.” The Elf bowed and went away, leaving Sam at his little table. Slowly Sam stood and fought down a wave of queasiness. It wasn’t the sea that caused it this time.

After all these years he was going to see Frodo.

⁂

Sam stood on a stone street, looking at it uncomfortably. He hadn’t seen stone streets since Minas Tirith and he gawked at it and all the activity around him. A small Elf village had grown up around the port and it was full of Elves, more Elves than Sam had thought even existed. And they were laughing and singing, like men, and making noise and driving carts and shouting. He stood agog at all of it, clutching his bag to his stomach feeling panic rise in him. 

“Are you alright Master Samwise?” the Elf on the ship had come down with him and was carrying Sam’s other bag, the one with things he had brought from home to give to Frodo and Bilbo. Little treasures, like a dragon wood carving he had made for Frodo when he was little, Bilbo’s Old Toby pipe, and Frodo’s favorite teacup. Thinking of home made his nerves jangle against all this noise and confusion. “What do you need sir?” the Elf asked, concern in his voice now.

 _I need Frodo,_ Sam thought. He had always imagined Frodo greeting him at the dock, but that hadn’t happened. No one else had come to meet him either, so instead he stood in the middle of this busy frightening city, feeling very far from home.

“I need quiet,” Sam gasped, “It’s a bit too much for a hobbit,” he added apologetically. The Elf led him gently down the road a ways and they slipped into a shop- or at least Sam thought it was a shop. It was a house made of wood with tables and seats scattered throughout and large arched sea glass windows. 

“Is this… a pub?” Sam asked hopefully. The Elf looked down at him and smiled.

“Very much so,” he said. Sam had been entertaining the ship crew with tales of Bywater’s pub. Mercifully this place was far less crowded than the Green Dragon and Sam found an out of the way table. The chairs were too tall for him, so he settled on a footstool. An Elf brought him a mug of something that smelled nice, and tasting it, he discovered that it wasn’t quite ale, but still very good, and calming to his nerves. The Elf from the ship sat next to him and sipped his own drink quietly. Sam was thankful for that. He didn’t want any more questions or talking, even though he desperately wanted to know what he was supposed to do now. 

He had tried when he first boarded the ship to see if anyone knew anything about Frodo and Bilbo, where they were, if they had been told of his coming, but no one had known. He had asked then about Elrond and Gandalf and though one Elf said that they could take him to see Elrond, Sam didn’t really want Elrond. He wanted Frodo and Bilbo and though he told himself not to be silly, that they might live anywhere in the Blessed Land now and getting word to them mightn’t be as easy as writing someone by Shire post. He had hoped that the journey might be over today; that he might find welcome here, but that was not to be. The door opened again and a tall figure bustled in, grumbling and banging his stick as he walked. Sam looked up in surprise to see a familiar face staring down at him

“Well well, Sam Gamgee!” 

“Mr. Gandalf!” Sam cried and put his mug down, climbing off the stool. Gandalf fell to one knee and embraced him tightly.

“I should have known to look for you where there was a good supply of beer,” Gandalf chuckled fondly.

“Tisn't Hobbiton brew, but it will do,” Sam said, feeling tears well hot in his eyes. He sniffled and smiled as Gandalf drew back to look at him, his big hands still on Sam’s shoulders.

“Well you seem to have become quite respectable,” Gandalf said, “Mayor Gamgee, now isn’t it?” Sam smiled. 

“Just Sam,” he said, “I’ve left titles behind me.”

“Well met Lord Findir,” Gandalf said, straightening, “Thank you for looking after Samwise.” The Elf inclined his head.

“It was my pleasure,” he said.

“Though it would have been more pleasant if you fellows had told me what time and where you were landing,” Gandalf said sternly, “Your captain seems to be under no compulsion to keep to any time schedule.

“Keeping to time is not really a strength of ours,” the Elf said.

“No,” Gandalf admitted and cast a look at Sam, “Nor is arranging long awaited reunions.” Sam took a breath, but Gandalf was already bustling about, collecting Sam’s bag from Findir.

“Well Samwise, shall we be going?” he asked, “unless you would like to finish your drink of course?”

“Where are we going?” Sam asked shoving his drink aside and taking up his bag once more.

“To the manor of Elrond, Evenstar it is called,” Gandalf said.

“Oh,” Sam said following Gandalf. He turned back to Findir and made a bow.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, “for looking after a hobbit in a land strange to him. I hope you fair well on the return trip.”

“Thank you Master Samwise. It was an honor. I pray that you find what you seek in this land,” the Elf said, giving him an even gaze. Sam held it for a moment, then looked down, blushing.

“Thank you,” he said and looked up again to offer, “Good bye.” The Elf nodded and Sam turned to follow Gandalf out to the street once more. Gandalf stood, gripping his staff and staring out at the city.

“More than you’re used to, eh?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Sam said, “It’s quite different than anything back home,” he frowned, “Where…” he stopped and took a breath, feeling suddenly afraid to ask what he most needed to know. Where was Frodo? Why hadn’t he come? Why hadn’t Gandalf mentioned him? Sam steadied himself against his fluster. He took a breath and asked, “Am I to stay at Elrond’s home, Evenstar did you say?”

“Yes I think so, for the time being,” Gandalf said and began to walk. Sam followed him, careful to keep at the wizard’s heels. Gandalf quickly found a carriage for them and helped Sam load his bag into it before lifting Sam into the seat. The wizard climbed up behind him and pulled the doors closed. Sam sat back, closing his eyes, relieved that the noisy street should be shut out behind them. The carriage was made of a light colored wood that creaked comfortingly as they moved down the street. Sam sat in silence for a moment, marveling at how vulnerable he felt. A month ago, he would have shouted orders and half a dozen hobbits would have scrambled to make things right, but now, in this strange place, away from his home, away from everything known, save Gandalf, he felt lost and alone.

“Where is Mr. Frodo?” he asked a deep ache already growing within him. Gandalf gazed at him from under bushy eyebrows.

“We are going to see him now. You see, it was Frodo’s dearest wish to meet you at the port,” he began quietly and Sam felt his insides go cold. “No Sam! Don’t look like that, Frodo is quite alright!” the wizard said quickly, “forgive me dear hobbit. Here, breathe, you look as if you’re going to be sick.”

“He’s alright?” Sam choked and squeezed his eyes shut, passing a hand over his eyes. 

“Yes he is,” Gandalf said and reached into his cloak pulling out a flask, “drink some of this.” Sam took the flask and drank, recognizing the taste of miruvor. He handed the flask back to Gandalf and took several breaths.

“Do they have miruvor springs here sir?” he asked lightly, “Only it seems everyone is offering it to me and it was so rare before.”

“All things of the Elves are in greater abundance here,” Gandalf agreed, “but you are being offered it because of your place of honor in this land.”

“Oh,” Sam said quietly and raised his eyes once more to study Gandalf. The wizard was watching him, thoughtfully. “Why is Mr. Frodo at Mr. Elrond’s house? Does he live there? And what of Mr. Bilbo? Where is he? Is he well?”

“Bilbo is well. He lives in a little cottage near the village. Very homey it is, I think you will like it. Now,” he paused, “promise me, you will not grow alarmed at what I tell you. I have told you that Bilbo and Frodo are alright, and you do trust me don’t you?” Sam nodded, feeling worried and Gandalf gave him a quick smile, “You know Frodo was very sick when he came to this land?” 

_Yes of course,_ Sam thought.

“And this land eased his pain, and put brightness back into his eyes. It did the same for Bilbo. Very sprightly he is, and just as much a rascal as he ever has been,” Gandalf snorted and looked serious again, “But even this land cannot take away all cares and it cannot forestall death and pain completely.”

“Aye,” Sam murmured.

“And it was a terrible wound that Frodo bore, a poisoned wound and it pained him, even in this land. He and Bilbo lived in peace for many years ere the pain grew to be severe. The Elves began to fear for him, and Frodo began to fear. Mostly I think he feared that he would not live to see you arrive here.”

“Oh,” Sam breathed, biting his lip. That Frodo had suffered pained Sam, who had made himself believe that Frodo lived here in bliss.

“The Elves could not take the poison from him, not in the normal ways that they might heal someone, so Elrond sent him into a blessed sleep, and his spirit has been attended to by powers beyond. We hope that the evil done to him has been eased and set to peace. He sleeps now in Elrond’s house, in an enchanted sleep. He has rested there now more than twenty years of your time.”

“Oh,” Sam sighed. His pain was eased but he suddenly felt so lonely and hated that he should be selfish. Frodo had found peace at last, and all Sam could do was ache. “At least I can see him when I like? Or is that allowed?” Sam murmured. The ache sharpened into despair. “I should like to visit him. Not that he’d know, I suppose. But it would ease me, you see. Being able to look on him.”

“Visit?” Gandalf said giving him a sharp look, “you do assume the worst don’t you, Samwise? He shall wake.”

“Oh!” Sam gasped as relief hit him. He really was going to meet Frodo again. 

“In fact,” Gandalf continued, “Frodo gave instructions that he should be woken in time to greet you at the port, for it was you that he chiefly wanted to see,” Gandalf frowned, “But the Elves decided that they would not wake Frodo until there was word that your ship was on the way. They wanted to be assured that you indeed were come to stay in the Blessed Land. They could not bear to wake Frodo and you not be present,” Gandalf snorted, “But there was no message and the Elves refused to wake Frodo early. I didn’t even hear that your boat had landed until after it happened. I came as soon as I could to the port and I’m very sorry I wasn’t at the dockside when you landed. I’ve let you down, dear hobbit.”

“Nay. It’s alright, Mr. Gandalf,” Sam said, touched to see the wizard so concerned.

“Please don’t think that your coming hasn’t been greatly anticipated.”

“I know that, sir.” 

“Bilbo is going to be very angry that he wasn’t told in time to meet you. And Frodo. Well, I shudder to think. Those Elves are very lucky that they are setting sail again at once.”

“Oh sir,” Sam laughed. 

They arrived in the late afternoon at Elrond’s house, and what a house it was, to Sam’s eyes, with spires of white with dense dark green trees with spindly nettles growing all around. The tall spires were topped with domes that looked as if they had been stretched upward and twisted, like a child might twist taffy, but they gleamed in the sunlight as the finest polished stone. Sam caught the sharp scent of pine and something else, smokey and herb-like on the wind. As they came up the entrance and passed through the gate Sam turned back and realized with surprise that they had climbed quite high, and that he could see the sea, far down below them.

“Do you like this land?” Gandalf asked.

“It’s beautiful,” Sam answered, “though I can’t put a name to half the plants here.”

“There will be time enough to learn them, I dare say, and to learn their true names,” Gandalf mused. Sam didn’t quite known what the wizard meant by that but he didn’t ask. He was tired and felt dizzy from the motion of the carriage.

The carriage stopped and Gandalf climbed out, helping Sam down again and took both his bags before Sam could protest. Really, he was too worn out to protest much anyway. Mercifully the front entrance was deserted and as they entered under the arching doors Gandalf turned back and gave Sam a knowing look.

“Everyone is preparing for Frodo’s awakening, and for the feast of course. I told them not to make a fuss and to save the greetings for later. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” Sam laughed, “Oh, Mr. Gandalf, that’s fine. For all you say you don’t know hobbits, you surely have learned a thing or two about us. I don’t think I could stand anymore bustle and noise right now, even if it were for folk as fine as Elrond and his household,” he bowed his head, feeling embarrassed, but Gandalf only laid a comforting hand on his shoulder for a moment.

They passed through long hallways, open and well lit from tall arched windows, and Sam saw only a few Elves. They did pause when he passed, their eyes on him, but they did not speak. Gandalf stopped and gave Sam’s bags to one Elf, speaking quietly to him in their tongue. Sam stood by, feeling awkward but they were off again quickly. At last they came to a large dark wooden door and Gandalf pressed his hand to it, pushing inward. The door swung open without a sound and Gandalf motioned for Sam to step inside. It was dark beyond the door, but not so dark that Sam couldn’t see. He peered forward and felt that he was in a large long room. He stood still, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise and waited for Gandalf. He didn’t like this room, he decided; it was as if a hundred people were peering down at him, unseen from above and it made him feel shivery.

“Mr. Gandalf?” Sam whispered.

“Right here,” came Gandalf’s gruff answer from beside him, “Just up ahead.” Sam stumbled forward and walked ahead of Gandalf, feeling the cold of the room acutely. As he drew near the far end he could see a platform and a dim light filtering out from a long shape on the raised surface. He peered curiously, realizing that all the light in the room came from this and wondered if the Elves had made some sort of lantern to light the platform. He stopped at the steps and paused, looking to the wizard behind him.

“Go on,” Gandalf coaxed him and Sam took a breath, looking at the steps again. Gingerly he climbed them, feeling his knees ache from the strain, until he stood at the top, blinking and looking around. There was a glass table before him and as Sam turned he saw the light scatter across it, and realized that it was a thick slab of glass, cut into many facets and that this object must be the source of the scattered light, yet the glass itself was dark. He moved closer, frowning, trying to understand what he was looking at; the table was very low, for a big person anyway, and etched with complicated patterns. Gently he reached out and almost touched it, before realizing that to do such a thing might be very foolish and paused, turning to see Gandalf watching him. Gandalf smiled.

“It’s quite alright. Touch it if you like,” he said. Sam turned back to the table and laid his hand down on it, feeling the etched lines and tracing them with his fingers. As he did a light from within the glass pulsed once, faintly, then flashed brightly and Sam cried out, closing his eyes. He felt as if he had been thrust suddenly into daylight and blinked, snatching his hand away.

“Here now, what’s this?” Sam cried indignantly, “Mr. Gandalf, you said it was alright!”

“It is alright,” Gandalf said and Sam could hear him chuckling, “There now, Master Gamgee open your eyes again and see what you make of this.”

“Tis a glass table and very fine and all, but I can’t see no use to go lighting it up like that. Is this some sort of magic looking glass?” Sam grumbled, his eyes still smarting, even though the light had faded once again as he removed his hand. He paused a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust and then gazed back down at the table. His breath caught immediately and with a cry he moved close to the table again, both hands clutching at it. Frodo! Frodo was beneath the glass! 

“Oh,” Sam gasped, transfixed by the image. Frodo lay small and tucked into soft blankets, his hands drawn over his breast, his hair curling around his face, and his eyes closed. Clutched in his hand was a small spring of flowers. Sam stilled and put a hand to his chest, overwhelmed with feeling for a moment, before moving his gaze back up to Frodo’s face. 

For a moment Sam had a vision of the dark marshes, a vision he had long tried to forget but one that had never faded; of thrusting his head beneath cold water and seeing pale dead faces, still and horrible leering back at him. But Frodo lay all in peace and there was a wholesomeness to his face, something that the spirits in the water had not had. The light flared again, but it didn’t hurt his eyes so badly this time.

Sam had expected him to look young, the way he had before the journey, and indeed there was vitality and youthfulness in his face, but there too was that timeless old look that Sam had seen glimpses of before.

“He looks peaceful,” Sam sighed, “but too still.”

“He is in no pain,” Gandalf said quietly.

“Tis not a table at all,” Sam marveled, “he’s in a glass coffin.”

“Death does not touch him here.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam murmured, reaching out to stroke the glass.

“This box was made by your friend Gimli, for he too has come to this land. Legolas built a boat and brought him here.”

“Oh,” Sam said, “That’s allowed?”

“No,” Gandalf laughed. Sam grinned and turned back to the box. 

“It’s beautiful. Is it magic? Is it what keeps him asleep?”

“I’m not sure that you would call it magic exactly,” Gandalf mused, “and no, it is not what keeps Frodo asleep, though the Elves wouldn’t call it sleep exactly. There isn’t really a word for it. Sleep will have to do.” Sam considered this. 

“Does… he know we’re here?” Sam asked quietly.

“I think so. That light just now, that doesn’t happen when a stranger approaches, only when someone dear to him draws close. I, or Bilbo can cause that flash, but the attendants here in Elrond’s house are not so favored,” Gandalf smiled, “I had little doubt that your presence would cause a reaction.”

“You might have warned me,” Sam grumbled, but he was too absorbed in staring at Frodo to put much effort into his grousing. “He’s really alright then, isn’t he?”

“He really is,” Gandalf said, “In fact, he’s better than alright. We will have to wait until he wakes to know how extensive the healing has been.”

“The healing,” Sam sighed softly, “I thought he would have been healed just by coming here. There is always a bit more to hardship, isn’t there? I begin to wonder if it will ever end.”

“This is the only place that he could be healed,” Gandalf said gently, “the hardship is fading and your parting is about to draw to an end. Never fear. You were meant to meet him again.” 

“I’ve always held that,” Sam said quietly, clasping his hands together, over Frodo’s form, “what is the light? Does the box do it?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“No, it comes from Frodo,” Gandalf said, “It is the same light he has carried with him, hidden just beneath the surface ever since he was wounded. I thought perhaps you had seen it before.”

“I…” Sam frowned. There were times he had thought a light shone through Frodo, when he was at rest or in peace, but Sam had always taken it as his own fancy. Gandalf gave him a keen knowing look and smiled.

“Greetings,” a voice said very close and Sam jerked back, startled to see an Elf towering above him. Gandalf raised his eyebrows.

“Lady Irhaal,” he greeted the Elf and turned to Sam, “she watches over Frodo.” Sam blinked and turned back to peer up at the Elf. She was dressed in dark green robes and gazed down at Sam curiously.

“My lord,” she murmured and bowed her head, “It is an honor. I have looked forward to meeting you.” Sam flushed and stepped back.

“Sam will do! Thank you,” Sam managed, “And thank you for looking after him.”

“Of course,” the Elf said and smiled faintly, “He’s hardly any trouble you know.” Sam stared a moment, then chuckled. He had never known an Elf to make a joke before. The Elf’s smile widened.

“Perhaps you can solve a riddle for us Lord Sam,” she said and bent to peer down at Frodo, “look there, see what he holds in his hands over his breast?” Sam peered down to the cluster of flowers that Frodo held. “Before Lord Iorhael lay down he requested these flowers. I have heard that you known plant lore, and thought you could tell us why your master wanted these?” Sam had gone still as she spoke.

“It’s honeysuckle,” he said quietly and when he didn’t speak again the Elf began to look uncomfortable.

“Pardon me,” she said, “I did not mean to speak out of turn. If he had wanted us to know he would have told us. I beg your pardon.” Sam shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. 

“Nay,” he said weakly, “Honeysuckle, it means… me.”

“You?” Irhaal asked. 

“That’s right,” Sam said sighing and looking through the glass to Frodo, “When we were young we had a game of using the flowers in the garden to send messages. We were to choose a flower for our names, and Frodo chose mine. He chose honeysuckle to mean me.”

“Then he was keeping you close,” Gandalf murmured. Sam shrugged, not liking all this out in the open before a stranger.

“When will he wake?” he asked. Gandalf cast a glance at the Elf.

“Soon,” the Elf said, “It isn’t something that will happen quickly. We will begin in an hour or so but I dare say he won’t come back to himself until perhaps this evening.” She turned to Sam and smiled, “It may be best if you eat and rest. I pray you will let us look after your companion for just a bit longer.”

“Of course,” Sam said quietly, “But if it’s all the same to you, I should like to stay here and wait.” The Elf paused.

“I’d save yourself the trouble of arguing with him if I were you,” Gandalf said, “for as long as I have known him, Samwise has been stubborn and in particular stubborn about being separated from Frodo.” The Elf smiled.

“Then we will not separate you now.”

Gandalf suggested they have tea and a bite to eat and an Elf was called to order the food. Gandalf led Sam off the platform and they found several chairs with cushions, on which Sam sank gratefully down. Gandalf rummaged behind the cushions and found that there were heavy drapes and behind them, windows. He pulled the drapes back and daylight streamed in. Sam was amazed at how much more cheerful the room seemed then, not the endless vaulted ceiling above that he had thought but a homey tiled roof, only the height of another story above them. 

“Ah, that’s much better,” Gandalf said, sitting down beside Sam, “the Elves prefer darkness to keep this room stately and hallowed, but really, I prefer not to use Frodo as a lantern when there is perfectly good daylight.” Sam blinked, looking back worriedly.

“Is he going to glow like that after he wakes up?” he asked frowning. He didn’t like to think of Frodo as some ethereal light filled being.

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so, at least not all the time to your eyes,” Gandalf said, “cheer up Sam, don’t look for trouble before it comes.”

They talked for a while longer before sinking into warm silence and watched the Elves gather around the crystal box. They stood still but Sam thought they must be doing something for he felt the air alive with light.

“Mr. Gandalf,” Sam said quietly, “Is he very changed?” Gandalf regarded the question thoughtfully.

“I don’t know,” he said, “You may think so. And he has been in the presence of the high ones these last years. That is not something that will leave him unmarked, but neither I think will he be alien to you. He remains your Frodo.”

“I’ll take comfort in that,” Sam said, “I’ll take comfort where I can in this strange land. I am glad you are here sir. Thank you, I should have been lost.” Gandalf smiled at him, looking pleased and perhaps touched. He reached over and patted Sam’s shoulder.

“We are of the fellowship, you and I. I think that we must still look after one another where we can and I am glad that I could do this for you.” 

The evening grew darker, until the room was filled once more with Frodo’s light, grown brighter now, Sam thought and more Elves had gathered to stand close. He had asked Gandalf what they were doing but he didn’t understand the answer. He heard something about seven levels of consciousness that Frodo was being led back through and gave a shiver.

“I’ll just trust to the Elves,” he said, “and hope Mr. Frodo is alright. I don’t like the thought of him wandering anywhere, lost without a body.”

“No,” Gandalf murmured, “He is not lost, in fact, he draws near,” Gandalf glanced up, his face serious as he watched the Elves, “can you feel it?” he asked Sam. Sam looked at him helplessly.

“Feel? No,” he said, “I’m not sure what you mean.” Gandalf turned back and gave him a reassuring look.

“Ah, never mind my talk, come along,” the wizard hauled himself up and Sam stood up beside him, “I think you’ll want to be close, eh?”

“Oh, aye,” Sam whispered, “He’s waking?”

“Yes. I believe so,” Gandalf said. He swept them up the platform and steered Sam in between the row of Elves, positioning him near the glass box. At some point the Elves had taken the top off, so that Sam could have reached out and touched Frodo if he had dared. He peered closer and gasped when he saw Frodo’s eyes moving under the lids, like someone dreaming. 

“Oh!” Sam breathed. A part of him hadn’t been able to believe he was alive, that his Frodo hadn’t gone and truly left him. He clutched his hands together and stared. He gave a jolt as Gandalf’s hands lit gently on his shoulders, but he was immediately glad for the support. He felt light headed and dizzy with nerves.

 _It’s Frodo, it’s your Frodo,_ Sam tried to tell himself, but after all this time how could Frodo be the same hobbit he had been? How could time and circumstance not have changed him, just as they had changed Sam, and if they didn’t know one another any longer, then what had been the point of making this journey? Sam felt a shiver starting deep within him. _Please let him be alright… Let him know me, let him be my Frodo…_

Frodo’s eyes opened and Sam tensed, gripping the table top before him. He watched Frodo draw a few quick breaths, his eyes looking up, and blinked, once and then twice. Slowly, his head turned to the side and his eyes focused, and Sam found himself staring helplessly into that well-loved face. But Frodo’s eyes held no love, or fear, only fierce strength. It was a bit like looking into the eyes of an eagle, but behind the eyes there was some great power, veiled now but even Sam could feel it, pulsing out. He tried to breathe, but felt as if there weren’t any air in the room and a coldness swept through his body. The last he saw before the darkness and the stars rushed in to swallow him was Frodo’s face, transformed and strange.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will begin the Sindarin phrases. Since the whole story is from Sam's perspective, you don't really have to know what's being said in Sindarin to follow the story, but I've given you translations if you hover your cursor over the Sindarin text (only works for computer users), and also in the end note.

Sam woke slowly, vaguely aware of being in a dimly lit room and in a warm bed. His left hand had been tugged away from his side and someone was holding it gently in their warm hands, one under his palm, another on top. Sam didn’t open his eyes at once, feeling confused about how he had ended up in a bed and who it was that could be holding his hand. Elanor had gone away on adventures. Sam opened his eyes and stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, tense and alert. No, the person holding his hand, it couldn’t be… He couldn’t bear to turn and see, but in his mind he knew the hands were too small to be Gandalf’s.

“There now,” a voice said and it wasn’t familiar. Sam turned and found himself looking at a hobbit, but one he didn’t know. He stared for a long moment then let out a cry.

“Mr. Bilbo!”

“Oh! You do know me,” the hobbit chuckled and helped Sam sit up. It was Bilbo, but a Bilbo that was so much younger than Sam had ever known him to be. He had that same strange timeless air about him that Frodo had, his face smooth but his eyes were wise and bright.

“Dear Sam!” Bilbo said and embraced him, “I have been so looking forward to your coming. How are you feeling?” he asked drawing back.

“I’m fine,” Sam said a little abashed, “Did the Elves tell you what happened? And when did you get here sir? I should have asked about you but I was…” Bilbo waved away Sam’s questions, smiling.

“I have only just arrived and you needn’t have troubled about me. I’m so very sorry I wasn’t at the harbor to meet you. I meant to be. Poor hobbit, you must have thought we’d forgotten about you.”

“No, I didn’t think that,” Sam said.

“Still, I don’t like to think about you being left so lonely like that.”

“Mr. Gandalf came and I was alright.”

“Good!” Bilbo said with satisfaction. “And Gandalf told me what happened when Frodo woke, and took the blame for it of course. But you know, Elf magic is notoriously unpredictable to my mind and I have seen a fair share of it now. I hope you aren’t upset, dear Sam.”

“Just had a bit of a shock is all,” Sam said feeling shy.

“Shock, well yes, they said that Frodo was possessed by the light of the high ones in the first instant and that he focused it on you. I’m not surprised you felt a bit faint. You really are alright, aren't you?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” Sam said, drawing himself out of the covers, “Is Mr. Frodo alright?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes by all accounts,” Bilbo said, “I haven’t seen him yet. I didn’t want to barge in on him and I wanted to meet him with you,” he smiled, “I admit I have been a bit lonely for other hobbits and now I shall have my two favorite lads about again.”

“Oh dear, and me gone and fouled up the reunion,” Sam said regretfully. “You all must think me a fool, not following the Elves advice, to rest and wait, on account of I thought I knew better than them. Tis a fool who doesn’t listen to the wise,” he hung his head.

“Nonsense,” Bilbo said, looking stern, “Don’t take any hardness to yourself. You have had a long journey. And then you come here with no one to greet you and then you get a shock, well it’s enough to put any hobbit off. And as for your reunion- you haven’t had that yet. And there is nothing you could do to foul it, Sam Gamgee,” Bilbo told him gently, Sam passed a hand over his cheek, looking away.

“When do we go and see him?” he asked softly.

“He is awake now,” Bilbo said, “And he wants to see you.” Sam pulled his hand away from his face and stared.

“He knows I’m here?” he asked.

“Yes of course,” Bilbo said. Sam pushed his legs over the bed and rolled down from the high mattress, standing shakily.

“Oh,” he murmured, “Oh I… then we should go.”

“Don’t rush now,” Bilbo said, sliding down from his chair to stand by Sam’s side, “There’s no cause for hurry. Frodo’s not going anywhere.” Sam drew a shaky breath and looked at the other hobbit, realizing how much Bilbo must care for him, to come and sit by his bedside rather than go to Frodo.

“Mr. Bilbo,” Sam said quietly, “I’ll not tell you lies, I’m scared to go see him, but I can’t bear to wait any longer. I think that goes the same for you, if I can beg your pardon.” Bilbo gave him a keen look and nodded.

“Well then Samwise, let’s go to him,” he said.

They walked together down the dark hallways. Looking out at the sky Sam could see it was still a few hours before dawn and that the stars stood out in the purple sky. They didn’t meet any Elves. At last Bilbo stopped before an orange ornate door and turned to glance at Sam.

“Go in first my lad,” he said and Sam was struck that Bilbo still called him lad, the way he had back in the Shire. He looked at the door and felt the same wave of nerves he had felt earlier in the night as he put his hand on the knob.

“What should I say?” Sam asked in a whisper and felt Bilbo’s hand settle on his back.

“I don’t think you need to say anything,” the old master said quietly, “Go on. You’ve been waiting for this for a long time.” Gingerly Sam turned the knob and pushed the door open a ways. He could see candlelight on the floor as he moved into the room, lifting his eyes shyly, his movements guarded. Slowly his lifted his gaze and saw that in the small room two figures sat very still, turned toward him. One was Gandalf, regarding him silently and the other- Sam swayed on his feet- the other was Frodo.

Frodo was turned to look at him, frozen by Sam’s appearance it seemed, and his face full of surprise, delight and breathless wonder. With a cry Frodo broke the spell and sprang up, tripping ungracefully in his eagerness, but recovered quickly to bolt across the small room.

“Sam!” he cried and in the instant before Sam felt himself engulfed in a strong embrace he saw tears in Frodo’s eyes.

“Oh!” Sam sighed in relief as wonder and joy filled him. His arms drew up and settled around Frodo’s back and they stood together, clinging to one another, breathless. Frodo wasn’t some light filled Elf creature, he wasn’t engulfed in power and strangeness, and even if he didn’t look exactly as he had in Sam’s memory, if he had a timeless ancient air along with renewed vitality, so be it. He still knew Sam, still loved him. Sam felt hot tears running down his own cheeks as he tightened his hold on Frodo, too overcome to speak. For long moments they didn’t move, though Sam could feel Frodo’s quick breaths and knew he was crying. Slowly Frodo drew back to look into Sam’s face and Sam felt his cheeks go hot. What did Frodo think of him? Whatever Frodo felt, his face shone with joy as he tentatively raised a hand to Sam’s cheeks, wiping at his tears. Sam sighed happily, and looked into his face, utterly content. Frodo sniffed and his face broke into a helpless grin, despite the tears.

“ _Meneg suilaid,_ ” Frodo sighed and Sam dropped his eyes, smiling shyly.

“Ah, I’m sorry, but your Sam never learned Elf speech,” he said quietly. When Frodo didn’t answer after a moment Sam looked up and found Frodo looking at him with a slight frown. Wanting to ease that tension in Frodo’s brow Sam smiled at him, “You can try to teach me sir, if you like. I’ve never had a head for it, but I dare say we’ve time now.” He saw Frodo’s lips part and disquiet come into his eyes. He spoke the Elf tongue in a low worried tone his eyes beginning to widen and Gandalf answered him with slow words. Sam took Frodo’s hand in his own, not understanding why Frodo wouldn’t speak to him, but still too happy to care much as long as he could see his Frodo and hear his voice. What concerned him more was the worry in Frodo’s face.  
  
“There now, what’s troubling you? Tell your Sam, and he’ll make it right if he can.” Frodo gave a jolt and let out another cry and Sam turned to see Bilbo had entered the room behind him. Frodo reached for his cousin and clasped his hand, speaking in quick elvish, looking from Sam to Bilbo and back to Sam again. Bilbo blinked, looking startled. Frodo let out a cry and turned on Gandalf, raising his voice, his back to Sam now. Sam felt like shrinking; he didn’t know what was happening and as usual around those that spoke primarily Sindarin, he felt left out. His shoulders slumped and he clasped his hands worriedly as Gandalf stood looking down on them both. Sam wanted to know what was happening, but his speaking seemed to be upsetting Frodo.

“It’s alright Sam,” Bilbo said comfortingly, coming to stand close.

“Why won’t Mr. Frodo talk to me?” Sam asked him, turning, “What is he upset about?”

“Frodo is a bit confused, that’s all,” Bilbo said looking worried himself, “He can’t understand you, he says.”

“Can’t understand me?” Sam said and realized that his voice had raised and gone high in agitation. Frodo turned to him and gave a look of pained remorse. Gandalf spoke to him in low rumbling tones and Frodo’s breath hitched as he moved back to Sam’s side. Fresh tears were welling in his eyes, but they weren’t tears of joy but tears of frustration. Sam recognized that plainly; you didn’t have thirteen children and not learn to read those signs.

“Oh my dear, it’s alright,” Sam said, taking his hand again. He looked at Bilbo who hovered beside them, looking almost as tearful. “You can’t tell me he’s forgotten our tongue and only knows Elf words now,” Sam said scornfully.

“He hasn’t spoken the common tongue in sixty years,” Bilbo said quietly, “maybe he’s still waking and can’t remember it.”

“It’s his native tongue!” Sam said and the disappointment and bitterness in his voice wasn’t hidden at all. Frodo looked at him unhappily.

“Frodo is still coming back to us,” Gandalf offered, “the dreaming took him away from himself and he lost some things- he needed to lose some things mind, that was part of his healing- but he has gained much. I would not despair, Samwise. Give him time and give him your patience.”

“Aye,” Sam said clutching to Frodo’s hand, but regret still twisted in his belly.

“In the meantime I can translate,” Bilbo put in, “and if I’m not about then maybe the Elves or Gandalf. We’ll work something out.”

“Aye, of course,” Sam murmured.

They had tried to speak through Bilbo and Gandalf, but try as they might, conversation and stories were much harder through translation and soon Sam’s stories were cut short and Frodo’s questions lapsed into silence. They were sitting now by the window in a long seat where they could be close to one another with Bilbo on Frodo’s other side and Gandalf sitting in the larger chair nearby, smoking. Frodo gazed ruefully at Sam and said something that made him half smile. Bilbo snorted and Sam looked at them curiously.

“Frodo says that he’ll have to find a new hobby,” Bilbo reported, “translating seems to be out for the moment.” Sam looked at them both, then chuckled quietly, glad that Frodo could treat this with some humor.

“That’s alright sir,” Sam said warmly, “I’ll teach you to be a gardener.” Bilbo translated and Frodo’s face brightened. He put an arm around Sam’s back and leaned in, murmuring close to Sam’s ear. Sam waited for the translation and when it didn’t come he looked over at Bilbo, expectantly. To his surprise Bilbo’s cheeks pinked and he cleared his throat.

“Erm, he called you his beloved one,” Bilbo said. Gandalf laughed and Sam turned a frown on the wizard. Gandalf only snorted and smiled around his pipe.

“Having to go through a translator isn’t convenient for everything is it?” the wizard said. Frodo was looking at them curiously now, and Gandalf began to explain in a low voice. Bilbo sighed, looking as if he thought he had been the butt of Gandalf’s joke and looked at Sam over Frodo’s shoulder.

“I’m sure this is temporary,” he said, crossing his arms, “but if it isn’t then you lads have the rest of your lives for one of you to learn a language. It’s certainly not impossible.” Sam blinked at that, and hummed. He had never thought to learn another language but it seemed a little silly that he wouldn’t here, he would be the only person in the entire Tol not to speak the Elf tongue and certainly he would hear a good bit of it. Maybe he could learn it. But then he remembered the afternoons Frodo had tried to teach him Sindarin and how after spending hours practicing it had all flown right out of his head the next day, and eventually even Frodo gave it up as a lost cause. He’d learned some bits of the mannish languages on the journey and in the years since, but those languages were cousins to his own tongue. Elvish languages were entirely foreign.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf said, “come, lets give these two a bit of time alone.”

“Hm? What for?” Bilbo scowled.

“Tender things.”

“If you say so,” Bilbo said with a sniff, “But I don’t see how they’ll manage such without language.” Gandalf sent Sam a look.

“There’s things to be done without words. Think you can manage Sam?” he asked. Sam clung to Frodo’s arm, frowning. Now he felt like the one who was the butt of a joke, though he knew there was no malice in Gandalf’s teasing.

“I reckon so,” he said. Bilbo and Gandalf stood, the former going to Frodo to embrace him and share a few more words. Gandalf leaned over him and put a hand on Frodo’s shoulder, bidding him goodbye. Frodo responded to them, a little bemused. The wizard led Bilbo out of the room, closing the door softly behind.

“Ah well,” Sam murmured and turned to peer at Frodo curiously. Frodo gazed back. “Tender things is it? Aye. I’d like that. Come here dearie. Will you let Sam be tender with you?” he asked, his voice was warm and fond with just a little mischief. Frodo brightened at his tone and curled closer. “Hm?” Sam hummed and held his hand out for Frodo. Frodo put his hand in Sam’s and watched as Sam stroked his hand, reverently touching the knuckle of his missing finger. Their eyes met and Sam drew Frodo’s hand up, kissing his palm.

“ _Edregol vaer,_ ” Frodo sighed.

“Aye, m’dear. I came. To be with you,” Sam added quietly. “Just like you said. All those years ago.” Frodo smiled and reached for him, and stroked his hair, curling closer.

“ _Findelya cala ve laure,_ ” he murmured, leaning closer to embrace him. Sam could feel his heart beating, flushed with joy. He’d been afraid that they would feel as strangers to one another, but now that he was here, it was easy to touch Frodo- as easy as it had been all those years ago, when the touches shared between them were for a time the only source of warmth and comfort on a hard road.

Frodo made a soft sound and brushed back his curls to trace gentle fingers along his forehead, following the line of a scar gotten from an orc blade in Moria. Sam closed his eyes. That scar was mostly hidden under his hair, but Frodo found it. He leaned in and kissed Sam’s head.

 _He’s relearning me,_ Sam thought. Sam opened his eyes and met Frodo’s gaze. Frodo smiled at him and reached down for his hand, pulling his arm up to hold against his chest. Sam let him, curious as he watched Frodo examine his fingers. One was bent, a little crooked compared to the others. Years ago, a pony had jerked in fright and crushed Sam’s hand against a fence. He’d healed and regained use of the hand, but one finger healed a bit off. Frodo touched the crooked finger, gentle, and watched Sam’s face.

“It don’t hurt none,” Sam said quietly. Frodo blinked at him, then bent and kissed it. Sam drew in a breath. Frodo wasn’t relearning him. It was closer to something Sam himself had done after the quest, when they’d shared a bed. Sam had more than once, traced each of Frodo’s wounds with loving touches and even kissed them. It had been an act of devotion. He had wanted so badly to ease Frodo’s pain.

“ _Muin nín,_ ” Frodo breathed, “ _Gi melin, _” Sam smiled at him.

“Mm. Frodo,” he sighed. Frodo held his hand, gazing at him for a moment more, then sat up.

“A!” he said and began undoing the buttons at his throat. Sam watched, curious. Frodo slipped his shirt down, uncovering his shoulder. “ _Yé!_ ” he said, excitedly. Sam stilled, his breath coming in gasps.

Frodo’s skin was unmarked. Sam cried out and pressed his hands to Frodo’s shoulder, feeling for the hard lumps of scar tissue that had formed, but it was smooth and his skin was warm.

“Oh Frodo!” he choked as a sob hit him and tears spilled down his cheeks. Frodo pulled him into an embrace, using his sleeve to try and dry Sam’s tears, though he was crying himself. “They really done it. They really went and healed you!” Frodo spoke, and his voice was gentle. Sam held him, listening to his words and soothed by the sound. A hard knot of fear that had lived his his heart for sixty years loosened and fell apart. Frodo’s arms wrapped around him and they held one another for a long while. Sam let his cheek rest against Frodo’s shoulder.

“This is what I wanted,” he murmured, “to see you properly healed. That, and I wanted to feel you loving me again.” He smiled up at Frodo, “is that what you wanted too, m’dear? To feel your Sam’s love?” Frodo let out a soft string of words and dropped his head to Sam’s shoulder, nuzzling against his neck.

Sam’s hand came up and he held Frodo’s head close in a gentle clasp.

“I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry if it was so far away you couldn’t feel it," he whispered. Frodo sighed in pleasure and Sam smiled.

There was a knock at the door. Frodo sat up, his expression irritated. He called out and the door opened. An Elf entered and blinked at Frodo, bowing slightly to him.

“ _Mae athollen, dithen saelon. Manen le?_ ”

“ _Im maer,_ ” Frodo said stiffly. Sam cuddled closer.

“ _Guren linna-_ ” the Elf began but Gandalf pushed into the room, scowling. Frodo spoke over the Elf, pointing at him, and addressing Gandalf. The Elf tried to interject but Frodo plowed on, evidently reporting him to Gandalf.

“ _Goheno nin_ , Frodo. Ah, and sorry, Sam,” Gandalf said, then he slipped back into the Elf tongue and addressed the Elf. The Elf looked vexed and made another attempt, but Frodo repeated himself forcefully. There was silence until Gandalf snorted and laughed. The Elf turned a sour look on him but Gandalf ignored him.

“What was all that?” Sam asked in the lull.

“Nothing, really,” Gandalf said, “The Elves want to examine Frodo and put him to tests, but he told them no. He will stay with you.”

“Oh,” Sam leaned closer to Frodo. Gandalf ushered the Elf out and went out himself, leaning back into the room as he grasped the door.

“I’ll see that there are no more interruptions this afternoon. But Bilbo would like to see you both at supper. Say seven? Come outside. There will be a feast and a bonfire.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam said. Gandalf smiled and shifted his attention to Frodo, addressing him briefly. Frodo nodded and Gandalf closed the door quietly behind him.

The afternoon passed gently around them, golden and sweet. Sam lay his head in Frodo’s lap and dozed, Frodo’s arms laying protectively over him.

⁂

Sam gazed across the long table, warmed and happy. Bilbo was there with him and they’d been talking- gentle light conversation. Jokes and tales, mostly. Frodo was about too, though Sam hadn’t seen him in more than an hour. He was evidently making the rounds, visiting friends.

The evening was pleasantly cool, just cool enough that a bonfire and warm cider was appealing. The crowd and the noise eased Sam, for this gathering felt more like home than any elvish gathering that Sam had yet seen. And yet, despite the gentle homey feel, Sam felt as a spectator. Beside him on the bench, Bilbo stretched and gave him a knowing look.

“I would wager Master Gamgee that it has been a long time since you attended a party where you didn’t have to make a speech, am I right?” Sam looked over at him and grinned.

“I was the Master of Bag End and the Mayor. What do you think sir?” he asked.

“I think that it must be strange for you to fall back into the background, the way you did when you were that gardener lad that I see when I look at you.”

“You still see me that way?” Sam asked thoughtfully, sipping his wine.

“Oh yes,” Bilbo laughed, “I think Frodo does too, though he knows that you’ve been more.” Sam thought on that a moment and sighed.

“It is strange,” he admitted, “Not that I want to be the center of attention! No, these are fine folk, Elves and honored peoples. But it is strange.” He gazed over the expanse to where the Elves were still seated in a circle. He sighed. He felt apart, that was it, Sam had never not been a part of the group, whether it was in Hobbiton, or on the road with his traveling companions, he had always belonged. Here, he was a stranger.

“Sam?” There was a touch on his shoulder and Sam turned to see Frodo standing beside him. He gave him a smile and Frodo smiled back. He spoke then and glanced at Bilbo, who was watching them.

“Frodo wants to know if you’ll go with him,” Bilbo paused and said something back to Frodo and Frodo shook his head, replying lightly. “Ah, I offered to walk with you two and translate but Frodo says he doesn’t want to bother me; that you’ll both manage. Well, there are Elves about I suppose if you have need,” Bilbo looked a little unhappy.

“Are you alright sir? I’m sure Mr. Frodo doesn’t mind if you want to walk with us,” Sam put in. Bilbo shook his head, casting a fond look at Frodo.

“Oh no lad, it’s quite alright. I’m only put out because I do enjoy talking with you Sam. But,we’ll have plenty of other opportunities and I see my friend Tulirë over there. So go on lads,” he glanced over at Frodo who was waiting patiently and said something to him as he rose. Frodo stepped over to his uncle and kissed his cheek, saying goodnight. Sam stood stiffly and stretched as Frodo turned away from Bilbo and gave Sam an encouraging smile, nodding to the nearest door. Sam nodded and they set off together, winding their way through the crowd.

They passed through a courtyard and into the corridor with Frodo in the lead, looking as if he knew where he was going. Sam didn’t much care where they were walking, only glad that Frodo had a mind to spend time with him. After a while of walking together in silence Frodo began to hum and Sam recognized it as a tune of Bilbo’s and joined in. He felt easier then, and it was more like old times. Most of his time with Frodo in the past had been spent in silence, Sam reflected, when they worked together, or cooked, and even on the journey, walking side by side in silence, and a look between them enough to communicate. He could almost believe it was still that way. Almost.

Frodo led him out onto a stone porch and toward stone steps with arches overhead. Sam stared at these towering above them and smelled the night air. It was warm in the Elf country, which he had been glad to find, and the birds and insects almost sounded the same as home, except that in the distance he could hear waves and gulls. They went down the steps and into a courtyard with trees and bushes and Sam realized they were in a garden. Frodo turned to look at him, as if asking his approval and Sam smiled and looked around and nodded. It was a fine little garden with pretty flowers giving off a sweet scent as they wandered through. Frodo found a bench behind a clump of bushes and sat, leaving space for Sam beside him.

Sam sat down and stared out at the fruit trees in front of them and sighed. This was exactly what he needed, to be away from the crowd and to be in a garden, a safe place with quiet punctuated only by the hum of insects settling down for the night. And a beloved hobbit beside him.

Frodo began to speak then, quietly, his voice low and sad, his face turned outward to the trees and sky. The sounds of Elf tongue had always been beautiful to Sam and it was beautiful still. He closed his eyes a moment and listened to Frodo pour out a stream of words. He showed no sign of stopping, even as minutes passed, Sam didn’t mind. He would listen to his Frodo if that was what was needed. At last Frodo sank into silence, staring out across the garden. He looked lost in thought, the way Sam remembered him looking so often in the old days- at first lost in some story and later, lost in his toil against the evil.  
  
Sam reached over and took Frodo’s hand in his own, slipping his fingers between Frodo’s and felt the surprising absence of Frodo’s ring finger. He looked up, meeting Frodo’s eyes, and for a moment it was like the old days, him knowing what Frodo was thinking just by his face, knowing that he was remembering that moment on the mountain when he had lost the finger.  
  
“We’ve touch and our voices now. That’s all,” Sam said quietly. “That’s enough, for me I think. It’s enough for us to give each other comfort and we can still share a lot.” He trailed off, pausing. “Ah. I’m not fooling you, am I?” he sighed, “I don’t like to feel ungrateful, but you know, there just are some things I want to tell you and ask you- thing that I can’t go through a translator for. Not even a translator as well loved as Mr. Bilbo or Mr. Gandalf. There’s things in my secret heart I want to speak on. I’ve waited so long. I suppose I must wait a bit more.” Sam closed his eyes, a shaking began deep inside him. “Did you ever look at the stars and wonder if I was looking at them too?” He pushed on, feeling tears burn in his eyes.

“Oh!" He breathed, continuing, "I want to tell you all the wonders I seen, and tales of the friends and family that grew around me. And I think you’d like to hear about all the stories I told. I got a reputation for it, see. And I told them all the story of Frodo of the Nine Fingers. Just like we talked about, remember?” he took a breath trying to smile but a tear fell down his cheek. “I did. Even when it hurt. I’d start by telling them the fun things- the trip through the Old Forest and of the Elf Halls and of the great king far away in his city of stone. But I always told them your tale too. I wanted them to know it. I wanted you remembered. And you are. You are loved by folk who never knew you.”

“Sam?”

Sam wiped his cheeks and looked up. As he looked into Frodo’s face a fresh welling of tears fell. Frodo looked worried.

“Ah, m’dear. It’s alright. Never mind it,” Sam sighed, “I’m not really hurt, not anymore. All that pain is over with. I suppose I’m just crying at the memory of hurt.”

Frodo moved closer and slipped his arm around Sam. Sam lay his head on Frodo’s shoulder and closed his eyes. After a moment, Frodo began to sing to him - a familiar melody of the Shire- and the tightness in Sam eased. His eyes were drifting shut. The air was warm, the light dim and Frodo’s voice soothed him. They sat together in this way for a long time.

When it grew late, Frodo gave him a gentle shake. Sam opened his eyes and found Frodo gazing at him. He nodded to the manor and Sam sat up, blinking. He followed Frodo back toward Elrond’s house. As they were leaving Sam paused by one of the gates and spied a vine curling around the post, white and yellow flowers springing forward. He passed close to it and reached out, plucking one of the flowers. Frodo had stopped and drawn close, looking at the vine in silence. Sam turned and held up the flower, the honeysuckle.

To his surprise Frodo’s cheeks went pink and he reached into his pocket, drawing out something small. He opened his hand and Sam saw that it was the same sprig of honeysuckle he had been holding in the box. He held it out for Sam to take and Sam took it, not understanding. They stood together for a moment, until Sam held out the flower he had plucked, pressing it into Frodo’s hand. Frodo looked at him, but Sam couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or what this meant. Sam knew what he meant it to mean: _I’m with you, I came to you. We won’t be parted now._

Maybe that was what it meant to Frodo too, for he smiled and tucked the flower into his pocket once more, and gave Sam a look of shining happiness. Sam grinned back, feeling a little silly. They turned and walked up the stairs together, going inside.

Frodo led him a short distance to a hallway lined with doors and at last Frodo stopped by one marked with an Elf symbol. He turned to look at Sam a moment, then opened the door, going inside and Sam followed him, wondering what this room was, until he saw his bags sitting on a small table. He frowned a moment, wondering why they had been moved here from the cozy little room where he’d met Bilbo. Frodo was talking now; looking down at the floor, walking about the room, showing Sam the extra blankets, the tub and water basin, and the chamber pot.

Sam watched all of this, a little amused to see Frodo acting as his guide. Frodo’s eyes darted to Sam’s and he smiled briefly, he touched his chest and pointed to a carved wooden door in the corner. Frodo would be staying in the next room, Sam thought and realized that was probably why he had been moved to this room.

“ _Posto vae,_ ” Frodo said, and drew close. Sam watched curiously as Frodo leaned in to give him a hug, then drew away, going to the door. He must have been saying good night, Sam realized.

“Wait, sir,” he said and raised a hand. Frodo paused as Sam turned and found his pack, hauling it up to rest on the table before them. He opened it and dug down until he found a carefully wrapped package, which he pulled up through the layers of clothing. He held it out to Frodo and he took it, cradling the bundle of cloth wrapped in twine. He looked up at Sam.

“Go on then, open it,” Sam said, “I brought it for you. I wanted to bring you something from the old life.” Frodo gave him a smile and set the bundle on the table to work at the knots. Sam tisked and was about to put his hands to work on them, remembering that Frodo didn’t know knot work and wouldn’t be able to decipher a Gamgee knot, but to his surprise the twine slid apart.

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed and cast a surprised look at Frodo. Frodo smirked, looking very pleased by Sam’s reaction, and unfolded the cloth. Gently he drew out the object and Sam beamed as Frodo held it up.

It was Frodo’s teacup, the pretty little green one that was always his favorite. It wasn’t anything special really, Sam suspected it was merely an object that Bilbo had come by and Frodo had claimed at some point. Sam had served him tea in it countless times. Now, Frodo was gazing at it, as if it were a long lost friend, a ghost from another lifetime. He traced his fingers over the little ridges that a potter’s hands had made long ago and looked up at Sam.

“I thought you might remember it,” Sam said, “you always said it looked like the color of spring, aye, like the new buds. I wrapped it up long ago, afraid it would get broken. I wanted to bring it to you,” he smiled and dropped his eyes, “don’t know why really, you must have fine cups here, but it is a piece of the old home. The old life.” Frodo set the cup down gently and stepped toward Sam, embracing him heartily this time. He laid his head on top of Sam’s shoulder and held on for several long moments. Sam closed his eyes, happy.

“ _I faer nîn linna nan glass,_ ” Frodo said, drawing back and raising his head, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead. Sam opened his eyes and cast a warm look at him. The gift seemed to have more than pleased Frodo.

“I’m glad you like it,” Sam murmured shyly as Frodo drew away, still cradling the cup. He smiled and said something quietly before turning and going to the door.

“Goodnight,” Sam said, “Sleep well, sir.” Frodo nodded, as if he had understood and slipped out. Sam sighed and went to his bedside.

It has been a long day and he was eager for rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meneg suilaid: Many greetings
> 
> Edregol vaer: That’s nice.
> 
> Findelya cala ve laure: Your hair shines like gold
> 
> Muin nín: My dear
> 
> Gi melin: I love you
> 
> Yé: [Interjection expressing happiness and excitement, directing one's attention to something]
> 
> Mae athollen, dithen saelon. Manen le?: Welcome back, little wise one. How are you?
> 
> Im maer: I’m fine. 
> 
> Guren linna- : My heart sings-
> 
> Goheno nin: Forgive me.
> 
> Posto vae: Rest well.
> 
> I faer nîn linna nan glass: Thank you from my heart/My soul sings with joy


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Sam took his tea in the little common room across from his and Frodo’s bedrooms. He’d come in to find Bilbo busily pacing as he studied the shelves of the bookcases that lined the room’s walls. He would pluck a book out and add it to the pile that he cradled until the pile got too heavy and then he would stack them in front of Frodo. Frodo watched the stack grow, bemused as he sipped his tea and took notes from one of the books he’d opened. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asked Bilbo, as he took a seat beside Frodo. He stared at the parchment. Frodo seemed to be writing out short words and practicing lettering. “Are you teaching him his letters?” 

“No. He knows his letters,” Bilbo paused and stepped over and nudged Frodo, mumbling something in Sindarin. Frodo blinked and turned to Sam. He cleared his throat and said clearly,

“Good morning, Sam.”

“He can talk our language!” Sam gasped, his eyes widening.

“Er, not beyond, good morning and good night, I’m afraid,” Bilbo chuckled. 

“Right, course,” Sam laughed. He was deeply touched that Frodo was taking the time to learn the language just for him. 

“Would you like to learn some Elvish?” Bilbo asked gently. Sam let out a soft sigh. 

“I could try sir, but I know I’m too simple for it. Mr. Frodo knows it too. That’s why he’s the one studying.”

“Oh nonsense, Sam,” Bilbo snorted, “you learned to be Master of Bag End, you can learn a little Sindarin if you put your mind to it.” Sam looked down at the book, then took it and set it on his knees. 

“I’ll try it.”

⁂ 

That evening they were invited to a festival down in the seaside town. Sam boarded a carriage with Frodo and Bilbo and rode down as the sun set. He peered out the carriage, still enchanted by the sight of the sea below. 

The festival was boisterous and bright, and for Sam it passed without him understanding a word from anyone for some time. It didn’t bother him as much as he might have thought. Frodo was with him and Bilbo or Gandalf when he happened by, would give him summaries of the speeches and songs. Bilbo had consciously lingered with Sam, despite several calls from Elves, in what Sam could only interpret as invitations. 

“Mr. Bilbo, do go on,” Sam had finally said, “I’m alright. If I need aught there’s folks I can ask for things.”

“Oh, but,” Bilbo looked worried, “I don’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m alright,” Sam assured him. He stepped closer to Frodo and touched his shoulder. Frodo turned away from the group he’d been listening to to blink at Sam. “You too, now Mr. Frodo. Could you tell him that, Mr. Bilbo? That he don’t need to feel like he’s got to stick by me.” Bilbo translated and Frodo sent Sam a look. He took Sam by the arm and spoke gently to him. 

“Ah,” Bilbo coughed, “he says he doesn’t intend to enjoy this party alone. And he asks if you will be his… hmmm.” Bilbo paused, puzzling over the word. “Party mate? Is that what the young people call it now?”

“Hey?” Sam blinked.

“Anyway, will you go around with him?” 

“Yes,” Sam said, putting his hand over Frodo’s where it rested on his arm. 

“I’ll leave you to it then. But don’t go back up to the manor without me! I’ll get caught up talking and forget the time. _And I do not want to sleep on the beach._ ”

“Yes, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam said dutifully, trying not to laugh. No one would make Bilbo Baggins sleep on the beach, no matter if all the carriage drivers had gone to bed. Someone was bound to give him a bed in town. 

Frodo and Sam walked the wide stone streets together, navigating their way through the tall crowd. While Sam might have wanted to chatter to Frodo, there was so much to look at, and the singing and laughing was so loud that his little hobbit voice would have been drowned out in any case. 

They came to a wide open place, where there was grass instead of stone and where it was a bit quieter. Down at the far end there were dancers. Frodo sent him a questioning look, gauging his interest. Sam nodded and together they made their way down the green and found a nook with benches to slip into, where they could see the dancers even when seated.

Frodo shifted closer and Sam felt an urge to put his arm around Frodo’s back. He didn’t. _I don’t want to overstep,_ he told himself. He settled in and watched the dancers. They were beautiful, lit by firelight in bright raiment, glowing against the dark woods. It was mesmerizing to watch them, but Sam felt more compelled to gaze on Frodo. He let his eyes move to the hobbit beside him. Frodo was also beautiful in the firelight. He turned away from the dancers and met Sam’s gaze. He didn’t look surprised or amused, as Sam might have expected. Instead, his eyes regarded Sam with a soft solemnity. 

He reached out and found Sam’s hand, but he didn’t grasp it. His fingers trailed lightly along the back of his hand. Sam tried not to gasp. Such a light touch, but it made him shiver and sent a fluster through him. Helplessly, he opened his hand and turned it over, wanting Frodo to stroke his palm, and nervous that he might. Frodo peered at him for a long moment, then touched Sam’s open hand, tracing his palm in feather light patterns. The touch burned like fire.

Sam drew in a shaky breath. He had felt these rushes of warmth for Frodo before. He’d reflect on them many times, loving that he’d shared such moments with him. He’d forgotten how intense the feelings could be. 

“ _Orthach 'uren ir tirach enni,_ ” Frodo said quietly, “ _Mell nín, Sam._

The deep tenderness in Frodo’s voice sent a pang of joy into Sam’s heart. He cuddled close and slipped his arm around Frodo the way he’d wanted to. 

“My dear,” he whispered, “I love you so.” Frodo embraced him and guided Sam’s head to his shoulder. 

They spent hours there, content and warm. 

⁂

It was very late when they returned. Sam, true to his word, had made sure to find Bilbo before they boarded a carriage for the ride back up. Frodo had muttered as they waited for Bilbo to wrap up his conversations. Every time he’d almost said goodnight he’d found himself drawn back in, just so that he could get the last word in. Sam had traded a knowing look and a soft chuckle with Frodo. 

When at last they had reached Elrond’s manor they’d gone at once to bed. He and Frodo parted ways at their doors, but not before Frodo clasped his hand and sent him a sleepy happy look. 

“Good night Sam,” he’d said. Sam sighed and drew his hand up to kiss it.

“Good night, Frodo,” he murmured back. 

Now, Sam turned over in bed, allowing himself to linger on Frodo’s face as they had sat together at the dancing that evening. He could read Frodo’s eyes. He knew what that gentle solemn gaze had meant- he’d been on the receiving end of that look so many times. 

_I love you._

Sam breathed out, feeling warmth flush through him. And then the touch across the back of his hand. He knew that too.

_I want you to feel good._

That sort of thing had happened before too- gentle sweet touches. Reminders of warmth and love. Sam felt himself smiling. He’d returned those kinds of touches in the past; offered them too. His smile relaxed into a thoughtful look. He’d turned his palm over, and Frodo had touched him. That was different. He’d known at the time it felt different. It seemed like Frodo had felt the difference too. And Sam thought he knew how to read that look.

_I want to give you pleasure._

Sam drew in a breath and curled in on himself. It couldn’t be, he told himself. He was reading it wrong. And how could he know that anyway? He felt an uncomfortable heat in his face. 

No. Frodo couldn’t have meant it like that. He’d been giving Sam the same sweet touches he’d always given him- reassurances and love. There hadn’t been any heat in it, except for what was in him. 

Sam curled tighter, hugging himself. He’d been aroused by Frodo’s touch. 

_It was a small reaction. Don’t make it more than it was,_ he told himself sternly. But it hadn’t been small. It was still there, smoldering inside him. Sam groaned quietly. 

Over the years he’d come to understand that some of the feelings he’d had for Frodo, had been romantic. It had been a slow realization that had mostly come on him after their return. But he hadn’t been able to name it then, still confused by the enormousness of all that he felt. 

As time passed and he gained more wisdom and experience, he could look back and see with a little more clarity what had grown in his heart. But the wisdom and experience hadn’t been able to tell him if Frodo had ever returned those feelings. It had been a mystery- one he’d laid aside. 

Until now. 

⁂

Sam was having the old dream again. He hadn’t been much of one for dreaming in his youth, or at least for having dreams that he remembered, but after the journey dreams had come to him. Not all were bad, but many were, and this was one of the bad ones. 

Something was hunting him in the woods, something intent on killing him and Sam was desperate to get away from it. Sometimes he found shelter, hobbit holes or fortresses of men to hide in, but it usually pursued him inside those places, breaking through doors and straining against locks. Sometimes he’d be on a bridge in the dark land, with enemies hunting him from each end of the bridge, and he’d cast himself off the side. In the better versions of the dream he fell alone, but tonight Frodo was there with him, also falling to his doom. 

With a shudder Sam jerked himself awake and cried out in alarm at seeing a figure outlined in moonlight, bending over him. Disoriented he scrambled back as quickly as his body would allow, and held up a hand to ward off the attack, but no attack came.

“Sam!” a voice said urgently and Sam lowered his arm to see Frodo at his bedside, looking worried. 

“Oh,” Sam said in a cracking voice, his throat dry, “Oh, I’m sorry.” They stared at one another for a moment in silence until Sam reached up, holding his hand out. Frodo took his hand and held it, still silent. Sam sighed. “Did you come to see me because I was having a bad dream? How’d you know?” He rubbed Frodo’s hand, and looked up at him, “Come sit by me, please?” Sam asked and tugged gently at Frodo’s hand. Frodo took the hint and climbed up, sitting with his back to the headboard, still cradling Sam’s hand in his own. 

“It’s that same dream, I’m afraid,” Sam said softly, “The one I’d get after we came back. I don’t know if I ever told you much about it, but when it woke me, back when we shared a bed, you’d put your arms around me. Do you remember? You would hold me until I fell asleep again. That was such a comfort, you know.” He was quiet for a long moment and then Sam bowed his head. “I wish I could ask you to do that now.”

Frodo turned to gaze at him, smiling slightly. Sam sighed, feeling defeated. He could try and communicate what he wanted but he felt too shy and he was afraid he’d bungle it. After all, he couldn’t just pull Frodo down into bed with him. He might not want to do such things now. Sam dropped his gaze and patted Frodo’s hand gently. He closed his eyes, wondering if Frodo would perhaps stay with him until he fell asleep once more. 

For a moment, Sam thought the nightmare had caught up with him, for he had the sensation of falling suddenly from a great height. His eyes snapped open and though he could clearly see that he had not moved, that he was still lying on the bed, the sensation of falling did not fade, in fact it grew stronger. Sam gripped Frodo’s hand in alarm and looked up at him, only to see alarm mirrored in Frodo’s face.

“Frodo?” Sam gasped, but Frodo only squeezed his eyes shut and swayed dizzily before falling back to rest against the headboard. “Mr. Frodo!” Sam said in alarm, and thought of getting up to find an Elf, but he was too dizzy himself and a new sensation was taking hold of him. It felt curiously as if Frodo were looking at him intently, but Sam could see that Frodo still had his eyes closed. It struck him suddenly that it felt the same as when the high Elves looked at him, in that deeper way, the way that made him embarrassed when they did it. Was Frodo doing that to him? 

But it was so different when it was Frodo, Sam reflected, he didn’t feel pinned down like a bug on display, for one thing. For another, it didn’t seem to be a one way road with them looking in on him and Sam only able to stand there and shrivel while they peered. Instead he felt very clearly Frodo’s presence all around him. The falling sensation faded to be replaced with a peaceful drifting that spread through Sam’s body and warmed him. 

“Oh, Frodo,” he murmured, wondering if Frodo would be able to understand him. But Frodo only flinched at his voice, and tried to pull his hand weakly back. Sam held on, too enthralled to give this up so easily. Frodo gave a mighty tug.

“Sam…” he said, and his voice was strained. With a jolt Sam released his hand, ashamed suddenly and looked up at Frodo, who still lay against the headboard, breathing heavily, his eyes open, but unfocused.

“Frodo! Oh, are you alright?” Sam asked, sitting up, only to fall sideways, the room still spinning around him. He struggled back up, bracing himself and reached for Frodo’s shoulder, then pulled his hand back, afraid to touch him. “I’ll get an Elf! Don’t move,” and he scrambled down, and staggered to the door. The dizziness was clearing gradually, but he held onto the wall, feeling as if he were drunk. There was a weak murmur from Frodo that was probably a protest. Sam’s heart was pounding. He was panicking. 

“Help!” he called into the hallway, “Help! Please!” There was no answer. Sam let out a cry and tried to move down the hall, clinging to the wall.

“Lord Samwise?” 

Sam whipped around to see an Elf standing over him, looking concerned.

“Mr. Frodo has taken a turn,” he said, feeling more and more like the young frightened gardener lad of old, “Please sir, he needs help!” Sam added, pulling the Elf back toward his room. He fell, trying to walk and the Elf, hauled him back up.

“Are you alright, Lord?” 

“I’m fine! Help him!” Sam demanded. The Elf followed Sam quickly back into the bedroom. 

The next few minutes were spent with Sam standing at the bedside while Frodo, who was sitting up and looking calm, though annoyed and chastened went back and forth in quick elvish with the Elf. Frodo turned to peer at him and the irritation in his expression fell away, replaced with concern.

“He’s asking if you are alright,” the Elf said quietly.

“I am,” Sam said. “Is he?”

“He is. Though you were right to come and get me. Do not be troubled.”

“Oh but,” Sam blinked, “what happened?”

“I am not sure,” the Elf said in a clipped tone, “he’s not being very forthcoming.”

“Maybe he don’t know,” Sam said stiffly, not liking the accusation in the Elf’s voice.

“Perhaps not.”

The Elf slipped out into the dark passage, closing the door behind him, bidding them goodnight. Sam stared, feeling drained and unhappy.

“Sam?” Frodo asked softly. Sam climbed up into the bed and peered at Frodo.

“Now what was that, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked. Frodo frowned and reached out for his hand, then halted, troubled and uncertain. Sam reached out too and offered his hand. Frodo paused, then took it. There was no sensation of falling this time. “There. All alright,” he murmured. Frodo sniffed and lay down, curling in on himself, though he still held Sam’s hand. “Do you want to stay?” Sam asked quietly. He lay down as well. 

“ _Goheno nin,_ ” Frodo whispered.

“You can stay then,” Sam soothed. “Anytime you like.”

Frodo bowed his head and drew their joined hands close to cradle against his chest. 

“Sleep, darling,” Sam whispered, feeling drowsy himself, now that he was warm under the blankets again. “All’s well.”

“Good night,” Frodo breathed, his eyes slipping shut. Sam smiled.

“Good night,” he whispered back. 

⁂

The next morning Sam and Frodo took their morning tea on the outside walkway that ran behind their rooms. He and Frodo slipped out and found a small table set up near his room and sank down gratefully to watch the morning birds in the trees. After a few minutes an Elf strolled by and greeted him, asking if they would like tea. Sam said that he would and felt a little foolish that he was being waited upon by an Elf, but stoutly told himself that it wasn’t any different than being waited on back home, that he had earned his place of honor with these people. 

The tea, when it came, was good and they spent a half hour drinking it and savoring the peace. Sam asked if he might speak with Gandalf. The Elf pouring his tea nodded.

“I’ll let him know you would like a word, Lord.”

“Ah. Thank you,” Sam said, taking the tea cup. He wanted to talk to Gandalf about what had happened the previous night, for he trusted Gandalf. He felt more and more guilty about hanging onto Frodo’s hand when Frodo had tried to tug away. He shouldn’t have done that. And also, he was beginning to suspect that Frodo had tried to do some magic, and that he had tried it because Sam had been so unhappy about not being able to communicate. So that it was his fault on two counts. Sam wanted to apologize, even if he had to muddle along with a translator. 

He’d hoped to talk to Gandalf with Frodo present, but after breakfast Frodo was called away by an Elf. He’d explained that Frodo was wanted by some council or another. Sam might have asked why, but he felt so downcast that he didn’t press. Frodo had stepped close and touched his shoulder. They’d shared a look, then Frodo stepped away, following the Elf down the walkway and out of sight. 

Sam sighed and poured himself another cup of tea. Gandalf appeared not long after, ambling along the walkway. 

“Good morning Samwise,” he called as he drew near, “Is that tea I see?”

“Yes sir, fine tea. Have a cup if you like,” Sam offered, for the Elf had brought a whole pot on a tray with several cups. Gandalf sat down and poured a cup, sipping it with relish.

“That is fine,” he said, “I’ve learned that having hobbits about means that the Elves keep tea on hand. Lovely.”

“It is,” Sam agreed. They drank in silence for a few moments.

“How are you faring, Sam?” Gandalf asked gently.

“Oh. I’m well,” Sam said. Gandalf peered at him. Sam felt a bubble of nerves for a moment, but pushed it aside. Gandalf was his friend. “I asked for you on account of Mr. Frodo. Or rather, something that happened with Mr. Frodo. And I didn’t know who to ask about it.”

“Tell me about it,” the wizard said.

“I’ll try,” Sam said slowly, “Last night, I was having a dream and when I woke up Mr. Frodo was there. He sat with me a while and we were holding hands. Then,” Sam frowned, “then I don’t know. I felt strangest feeling.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Like he was looking at me,” Sam said slowly. “But he wasn’t. His eyes were closed. And it made me very dizzy. Mr. Frodo fell back then, and he tried to pull away,” Sam dropped his head ashamed, “but I held on, till he said my name. Then I sort of come to and let him go,” he looked up, afraid he would see anger in the wizard’s expression, “If I’ve hurt him I won’t forgive myself. I only want to tell him I’m sorry but he’s gone off.”

“Oh, Sam,” Gandalf said, “I will ask Frodo but I doubt very much that you did any harm. Don’t be troubled,” he sighed, “I think Frodo tried to make a bridge between the two of you, so you could understand one another without words, the way that the wise do.” Sam looked up and put his cup down on the table, staring.

“I thought it might be something like that,” he murmured.

“Did it hurt you?” Gandalf asked softly.

“No,” Sam answered, “surprised me maybe. I didn’t know what was happening at first, but then it felt elvish, like when the lady looked at us, all those years ago and knew the things in our hearts.”

“Many find that sort of experience to be unpleasant,” Gandalf said.

“Oh, when the others done it, aye, felt embarrassing, but it wasn’t so bad with Mr. Frodo. I don’t mind him.” He thought for a moment, “Could we do that? Could we talk, the way you and the other wise do? With no words?” Gandalf frowned.

“Well, the Elves are against it,” he said, “Frodo is not skilled in the ways, and we didn’t believe you to be ready for such a thing, though,” Gandalf gave him a thoughtful look, “I’m not sure that is the case.”

“I, well, I’d not go against the Elves. I’ve learned my lesson there, but what Mr. Frodo did didn’t upset me none.”

“Really?” Gandalf mused, “I will report what you’ve told me to Elrond, and we will consider what may be done. Perhaps you two can learn with one of the masters.”

“Thank you sir,” Sam said, “I think that I would like that.” Gandalf excused himself shortly and Sam sat a while longer, watching the birds and drinking tea. That there was a possibility that he and Frodo could communicate without words lit him with excitement.

⁂

At midday, Sam ventured out, walking the courtyards before he settled in the garden. He’d brought his book out with him. It was cursed difficult to make sense of it, and several times he’d been driven close to tears with frustration, trying to work out what the book meant. It wasn’t a phrase book, but went on at length about the mechanics behind language. He’d hoped coming outside and being among the plants and fresh air would help, but as he continued his studies, he found the book increasingly frustrating.

“It’s not writ for a hobbit,” Sam sighed.

“We do have hobbit books.”

Sam jolted in alarm. An Elf blinked at him from among the bushes, where he knelt, weeding.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry, Lord,” the Elf said. 

“That’s alright!” Sam said quickly, “I’m just not used to Big Folk sneaking up on me. Ah. not that you were sneaking. You’re doing a job. I’m the one snuck in here.” The Elf regarded him, bemused.

“Well, you are welcome in any case.”

“Thank you,” Sam sighed, feeling foolish. 

“So which book is it that isn’t to your liking?” the Elf asked. 

“It’s not the book. It’s that I’m too slow to understand it,” Sam murmured, “It’s a language book.”

“Ah,” the Elf said, a light of understanding in his eyes now.

“Could I ask you a few things? How to say them in your tongue?” Sam asked, “Ah, if it’s not a bother I mean.”

“Of course I will and no it isn’t a bother,” the Elf said politely. Sam dutifully copied down the few phrases- _hello, good night,_ and _thank you._ He paused, his pen nib ready.

“Yes?” The Elf asked. Sam quivered. He desperately wanted to know how to say, _I love you_ , but looking up into the Elf’s face he found his nerves desert him. 

“That’s all,” he said, “sorry again.” And he went back to his book.

⁂

The day passed without Frodo appearing again and Sam took his supper with Bilbo in the small common room. He didn’t feel up for the Great Hall, and it was comforting to be with Bilbo. They talked into the evening before bidding one another goodnight. Sam wondered if Gandalf was with Frodo and if he’d told Frodo that he was sorry. He hoped so. 

Frodo didn’t make an appearance the next day either. Sam felt a little stab of worry. Was Frodo upset with him and avoiding him? He’d stayed with Sam that night and hadn’t seemed upset with him, and his conversation with Gandalf gave him further comfort, but still the worry lingered. Was Frodo being punished then? He tried to push that thought aside. Frodo was being taken care of, he was certain. In the meantime he could surely entertain himself. He spent the day studying his book and practicing the few phrases he’d memorized. _Yes, no, please_ , and _I’m sorry_. 

Late that afternoon he found Bilbo in the back garden, sipping wine and eating. He’d waved Sam over and passed him a tray of cheeses. And poured Sam a glass of wine.

“Good cheese they make here Sam, absolutely lovely stuff,” he said, “try a bit with the wine and you’ll see what I mean.” They were sitting under a bower dripping with wisteria as the sun set behind the distant hills. Sam obligingly sipped his own wine and took one of the cheeses, sampling it. It was good, flaky and flavorful and for a moment Sam felt content and restful. Bilbo sent him a piercing look as he chewed and chased his own cheese with a sip of wine.

“Well, and what have you been up to?” he asked, “I hear that they’ve kept Frodo locked up again all day, away from prying eyes.” Sam raised his head and frowned. He had felt too shy to ask any of the Elves about it and he hadn’t seen Gandalf and hadn’t found Bilbo until now. Elrond’s house was a surprisingly large place. Sam ducked his head and took another sip of wine.

“Making a nuisance of myself to the Elves of course,” he answered easily, “toured the gardens for a while and then I went walking in the forest above the house.” Bilbo gave him an impressed look.

“That’s rough country up there,” he said. Sam shrugged and chuckled.

“If you’ll pardon me saying, the country up there isn’t what I would call rough. I’ve seen far rougher,” he said and Bilbo’s face froze for a moment. Sam blinked and felt his cheeks flush. He hadn’t meant… “The Marish for one,” he said quickly, “Rushock Bog even. Well, rough country or no, there’s things to find in them places. Mushrooms, pigeon feathers, and all sorts of plants. T’is worth the excursion, and I want to keep myself somewhat in shape.” Bilbo lifted his eyebrows and smiled.

“Good thinking lad. It’s far too easy to swan about here. I should know!” he laughed. Sam grinned and gazed out over the gold stained countryside.

“Why did they keep Mr. Frodo locked up again today? Do you know?” he asked quietly. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably and shrugged.

“They are talking to him. Conferencing, they call it. He’s been through some things, our Frodo has,” Bilbo said quietly. “I suppose he wants to talk to them as well. He says that he enjoys the company of the wise, that it brings him comfort.” Sam’s shoulders sank as he thought on this, his frown deepening.

“Can’t say I understand,” he said slowly, “But if it brings Mr. Frodo comfort…” he trailed off and took a sip of wine before continuing, “To me though, a little of that goes a long way. Why, if it's comfort I’m after I look to other hobbits.” He flushed a little to hear the hurt so plain in his voice. Bilbo made a soft sound of agreement. He sighed, “Oh don’t mind me and my grumbling.”

“… I think Frodo lets the Elves tell him what to do more than he should,” Bilbo said and gave Sam a kindly look, “He has always wanted to please others, you know, and he trusts the Elves and the wise so very much. I’m sure it does bring him comfort to be with them, but if the lad listened to his own heart I think he would be here with us.” Sam bowed his head and didn’t answer. He felt glad once more for Bilbo’s warm understanding, and thanked the stars that the other hobbit was with him now.

“Well, he may be working out some way that we can talk. At least, that’s what Mr. Gandalf hinted at,” Sam murmured.

“Really?”

“Some magic thing,” Sam hummed. 

“Well, I hope it works out. I can’t bear to see either of you unhappy,” Bilbo said quietly.

“Oh, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam was touched. “I’m not unhappy. Coming here has meant so much to me.” He closed his eyes, “that’s another thing I wish I could tell him.”

“I could try and tell him a bit,” Bilbo offered gently. “He hasn’t asked, but I know he wants to know if you are happy here.”

“Please tell him that I am,” Sam let out a breath. “Tell him that being here and seeing him has filled up something in me that needed filling up.”

“And you aren’t sad to have left your family behind?” Bilbo asked.

“In a way,” Sam said slowly, “But when I look back on it, I feel the love and happy memories, and the sadness has faded. It’s like some old grief that has healed. It’s odd. I know it hasn’t been that long since I left the Shire, and yet that life seems like it’s as far away as my tweenhood.”

“This land is a place of healing,” Bilbo said quietly.

“I suppose I knew that. Just didn’t expect any of the blessing for myself.”

“I didn’t either,” Bilbo sighed. He was quiet, lost in his own thoughts. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bilbo, I’m going on so,” Sam said.

“You don’t need to apologize for that, Sam,” Bilbo smiled, returning his gaze to Sam’s. “Please always feel free to talk to me.”

“Thank you,” Sam said slowly.

“I know you’d rather talk about these things with Frodo, but let me help you in any way that I may. And someday you two will be able to have those close talks again.”

“Oh, sir,” Sam felt tears prick his eyes. A door at the side of the courtyard opened and Gandalf stepped out into the light. 

“Oh! Gandalf! Come here,” Bilbo demanded, “We want to know where Frodo is and no one has told Sam anything. And that’s not right.”

“No?” Gandalf strode across the courtyard to them.

“Is he alright?” Sam asked.

“He’s alright,” Gandalf said gently.

“Well what do you all mean by keeping him locked up?” Bilbo growled and sipped his wine. 

“No one is locking him up, dear hobbit.”

“Well then, let the boy alone. He needs to eat and be with other hobbits.”

“He is being taught how to speak with Sam without words,” Gandalf said and Sam sat up straighter and gaped at the wizard.

“They said we could?” 

“Yes. Frodo and I made a case to them. And now comes your part, Sam.”

“My part?” Sam blinked.

“You’ll go with one of the masters and he will show you what must be done.”

“Now?” Sam squeaked.

“If you are ready,” Gandalf said, “we can wait if you are not. I am sorry to spring this on you, but you see, Frodo has only now completed the tests the masters gave him. We were not certain that such was possible. But once again, Frodo has proven himself.”

“Well of course,” Bilbo snorted. 

“I’ll go now,” Sam stood up.

“Oh, but it’s supper time,” Bilbo blinked, “Frodo will need supper too. Isn’t it better to not start anything on an empty stomach?” Sam glanced at him, trying to think of a polite way to tell Bilbo that he had no appetite.

“It’s better than he does not eat,” Gandalf said slowly, “Frodo has been fasting as well.” Bilbo sat up.

“Fasting? That is all well and good for an Elf, but it’s nonsense for a hobbit! I’ll not have him nor Sam missing meals!”

“Please, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam saif, “Mr. Frodo wouldn’t do it unless he thought it needful. I’m sure no one here would let any harm come to him. And he’ll hardly starve missing a meal.” Bilbo sputtered a bit looking uncertainly at Sam.

“There you see, old friend,” Gandalf said gently, “it’s quite alright. Do you think Samwise Gamgee would stand for Frodo being mistreated? I’m sure you are ready for a meal however.” Bilbo sniffed, glancing down.

“I’m suddenly not hungry.”

“Oh Bilbo.”

“None of that!” Bilbo waved them off, “I’m not hungry because I’ve been eating cheese all afternoon. Go on now, both of you.” Bilbo clasped Sam’s shoulder. “Good luck Sam. I know it will come right.” Sam met his eyes.

“Thank you.” 

Sam walked with Gandalf under the courtyard arch and the wizard led him deep into the bowels of the great house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orthach 'uren ir tirach enni: You lift up my heart when you look at me
> 
> Mell nín: My beloved
> 
> Goheno nin: Forgive me.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam remembered very little of the rest of the evening. There were vague flashes of recollection in which he remembered being seated in a stone room with a fire and a very tall Elf sitting before him swathed in gold and an impression that the gold was writhing along his form like flames, in a way that made Sam very uncomfortable. He recalled having his hands clasped by the Elf and drawn toward a bowl, then there was only pain and some sort of fevered dream of fire scorching his clothes and hands. 

Sam had thought he was going to see Frodo but he had not. He had asked for Frodo, but he had been told he must do this by himself. Now he lay lost in a dark room, alone, his body feeling uncomfortably chilled by sweat and the smell of fear floating around him. Sam let out a sob and tried to twist out of the thick blankets that lay over him only to hear a cry of alarm and a warm hand clasping his own. 

He jerked in surprise and suddenly Frodo’s face was before him, wide eyed in distress. 

“Frodo, my dear,” Sam gasped and clutched his hand, almost certain that this was part of the fever dream, but Frodo stilled and leaned closer, his hands running over Sam’s shoulders and up to his forehead, pausing there to check his temperature. That pragmatic move cleared some of the dream mist from Sam’s mind and he realized that he was in his own room again, dressed in a nightshirt and Frodo was in fact at his bedside. 

He tried to sit up but he was weak and dizzy and a wave of pain flared in his head. He groaned and sank down, blinking up at Frodo. 

Though the room was dark without even moonlight or candlelight he could see Frodo clearly. He went still and studied the form before him. Frodo was illuminated like he had been in the sleeping chamber. He was beautiful, but seeing him wrapped in strangeness and power made Sam dizzier and chilled him. Frodo must have sensed his disquiet; his hand slipped down to Sam’s cheek, stroking familiarly there and he met his eyes.

“Sam,” he called gently. Sam reached for his free hand and held on, gazing into his face. Frodo’s eyes were familiar and loving. Slowly, Sam’s fear melted away. 

“Are you with us again?” 

Sam jolted in alarm at the sound of Gandalf’s voice and his eyes snapped open. The wizard was seated against the close wall, watching the pair.

“I think so, sir,” Sam croaked.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Gandalf said soothingly and rose stepping to the bedside. “Are you in any pain?” he asked.

“Yes. My head,” Sam said, trying to make his voice sound normal but it still came out scratchy. It was the worst headache he had ever had, as if he had drunk the entire wine cellar by himself. He had closed his eyes against the pain only to open them again at a gentle cool touch at his temple. Frodo held a damp cloth to the side of his head, pressing and rubbing the cloth in slow circles and Sam felt slightly soothed.

“Now that you are awake, we can give you a tonic for the pain,” the wizard said and bent to lay his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “My dear hobbit, you had us quite worried. We won’t talk about it tonight, but I owe you an apology. You were put through pain that you should have had to bear and certainly you should not have been left alone. I meant for both myself and Frodo to be there.”

“Did they do magic to me?” Sam asked, still curious though now slightly less enamored with the thought of Elvish magic. Gandalf paused as he poured a liquid into a small glass cup at Sam’s bedside and looked up.

“Yes,” Gandalf said and patted his shoulder, “I don’t want you to worry about it right now. You need to rest.” He held the cup up and Sam eased himself into a more upright position as he took the cup. He felt very unsteady and was glad that both Frodo and Gandalf were holding on to him.

“Can I talk to Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked anxiously as he finished the draught and Gandalf took the glass away. 

“Not yet,” Gandalf pressed him gently back into his pillow and straightened, “Nothing is settled tonight. Our chief concern is seeing to your wellbeing at the moment and you mustn’t worry about anything past. I will only say that no more harm will come to you. Frodo will see to that, and I will see to that.” 

“But what happened to me?” Sam murmured weakly, shifting to rise again, only to have Frodo hum soothingly and remind him with a firm hand on his shoulder that he should stay down.

“That is a long and complicated matter. I’ll only say that things did not go as anticipated and you are suffering in consequence. But you will recover by morning if you rest properly.”

“Begging your pardon but-” Sam began but Gandalf raised a hand.

“You are a stubborn hobbit aren’t you?” Gandalf said smiling, “I promise I will give you a detailed explanation but not until you are rested and recovered. If not for your own sake, you must do it for Frodo’s. He has been terribly worried for you.” Gandalf turned and went to the door, “I will say goodnight Sam. Sleep in peace, dear hobbit.”

“Yes sir. Thank you,” Sam breathed and heard the door close. Frodo was still sitting by him in the semi-darkness. He turned to Sam and fixed him with a grief filled look. 

“ _Naethen, naethen,_ ” Frodo gasped, tears spilling down his cheeks, “Ae Sam.”

“Ah, there now me dear,” Sam said and reached weakly for Frodo. Frodo clasped Sam’s shoulder, turning his face away. “Here,” Sam soothed and sat up, putting his arms around Frodo, “None of this is your fault, don’t be unhappy, please.” Frodo bowed his head and they huddled together, silent and still. Sam closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. The ache in his head was lulling in the dark quiet and he felt at peace despite the earlier pain and disorientation. Frodo spoke again, his voice quiet and he reached up again to Sam’s forehead, a question in his voice.

“Better. It’s better,” Sam soothed and sighed, “You know I’d do quite a bit to be able to talk to you, but I ought remember that just being here with you is reward greater than I deserve,” he said, “And just knowing you’re well, and holding you like this, it’s got me happy as a little lad.” He paused and stared thoughtfully at the soft light scattering across the bed covers and traced his hands over Frodo’s forearm, the source of the light.

“…But if we could talk,” he murmured, “I think tonight I’d tell you the funniest stories I could think of. Took antics and fussy Bree hobbits, and Brandybucks who pretend to be above it all. Anything I could think of to make you laugh. I love hearing you laugh,” he paused and added quietly, “And of course I’d tell you that I love you. Always that.”

Frodo let out a sigh near his ear and tightened his grip. Sam drew back to see Frodo gazing unhappily at him and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

“Poor Frodo, you’re wishing the same sort of things aren’t you? And you’re probably thinking you’re the cause of all our grief- you forgetting the language and asking the Elves to do magic to me… Ah, you always did take too much on your shoulders. Be at peace, my darling. We’ll find our way as we always have.” He watched as Frodo closed his eyes and smiled, soothed by Sam’s tone, if not his words. 

Gently he pushed on Sam’s shoulders until Sam took the hint and slid down to lie in the bed once more. He was tired and lying down felt much better, though he frowned as Frodo set the damp cloth back on his head. It felt too cold and wet and it was making him shiver now.

“No please,” he said softly and caught Frodo’s hand, stilling it. Frodo withdrew but the warm weight next to him did not move. Sam smiled, and though his eyes were closed he reached out and found Frodo’s hand. “Stay, Frodo?” he murmured. There was no answer, but Sam was already drifting into sleep, his hand clasping stubbornly to Frodo’s. Frodo spoke soft words over him and Sam knew no more.

⁂

When Sam awoke it was to bird song and weak dawn light filtering in through the window. Sam smiled, feeling soothed that he’d woken with the sun, as he was accustomed to. He was though, slightly startled to hear someone moving about the room. He turned over and found that Frodo was heating tea and that a breakfast platter had been laid out for both of them. Frodo caught sight of him and smiled, greeting him. 

“Good morning,” Sam said and sat up slowly. Frodo took the kettle off the fire crane and set it on a tray, turning a concerned look toward Sam. He asked a question, peering at him, as he moved to the bedside.

“I feel alright,” Sam said slowly and stretched his limbs experimentally. His head felt a bit numb, but there was no pain. He made to slide off the bed but Frodo stopped him and shook his head. “I can’t get out of bed?” Sam asked, annoyed. Frodo pressed him back and gave Sam a stern look. “Oh now, I’m alright! You’re being silly,” Sam grumbled, aware that he was speaking far more frankly in Frodo’s presence than he ever had before, though he was sure his tone and grumbling was making his point clear. Frodo stepped away looking exasperated.

“Sam…” he sighed. Sam tossed his hands up and spread his fingers.

“Aye, alright, fine then,” he said, “Have it your way sir. You always did in the end."

Frodo served Sam breakfast, giving him a tray and plate to sit on his lap and began heaping fruit and eggs and toast onto his plate and put a steaming cup of tea on the bed table. Then he pulled up a chair and began eating his own breakfast. Sam ate heartily and found that once he started eating he was ravenous. He hadn’t had supper last night, after all. Frodo noted his empty plate with apparent approval. 

After breakfast Sam expected for Frodo to wander off, but instead he settled in a chair with a book that he took from the shelf near Sam’s wardrobe. Sam gazed at him, curiously. 

“You’re minding me, aren’t you?” Sam murmured. Frodo looked up and met Sam’s eyes. He paused for a moment, then rose and climbed up into the bed to sit next to Sam and held the book out for Sam to see as well. “What’s this?” Sam asked, holding an edge of the book. It was an illuminated text, written in elvish with lavish illustrations painstakingly hand drawn in rich hues. “How pretty,” Sam said, touching the page. Frodo smiled and settled back, happy to examine the book while Sam looked on, studying the drawings. 

After a time Frodo began to read in a steady quiet voice. Sam eased and leaned back against the pillows. This took him back to the days when he had been Bilbo’s gardener and he and his young heir invited Sam in on cold winter afternoons to sit by the fire and listen to the words of the fair folk. Bilbo had been teaching Frodo Quenya then and insisted that Frodo practice by reading aloud while he and Sam listened. Without quite meaning to Sam slipped into a light doze, soothed by Frodo’s voice and presence.

There was a knock that startled Sam from his doze and he sat up, blinking in the morning light. Frodo was still beside him and was staring hard at the door. He spoke a short word and the door opened slowly. An Elf, a very tall Elf, came in and bowed his head to both of them, speaking a greeting. He fixed Sam in his bright gaze and said,

“Hello master,” as if he were tasting the unfamiliar words. Something in his manner called a memory to Sam of the previous night and frowning he thought that perhaps he had met this Elf then. Before he could answer Frodo slipped down from the bed and spoke to the Elf, in low angry words. From the set of his shoulders Sam could tell Frodo was furious. He stared in shock, for Frodo had rarely been angry in the old days, or at least he had not shown it like this.

What followed was a baffling and a bit frightened for Sam, as Frodo’s tone grew more upset and angry and his voice raised against the cool words of the Elf. The Elf’s brow was knit in frustration but he remained calm, even as Frodo jabbed a finger at him and uttered what Sam could only interpret as curses. Sam couldn’t bear it any longer. He was sure this was because of what had happened to him, which he knew had not been the fault of the Elves, though Frodo clearly blamed them.

“Frodo?” he cried and put his feet on the floor, rising to gaze helplessly at the pair. Frodo turned to him and went quickly to his side, pushing him back to the bed, his face hard and determined as he spoke a soft reprimand to Sam. Sam pushed his hand away saying, “I’m fine! Please Frodo, don’t shout at him!”

“He has a right to be angry, master,” the Elf said, “We put you in danger, and for that I am ashamed.”

“Tisn’t your fault,” Sam said, “Tisn’t anyone’s fault as far as I can see.” He touched Frodo’s arm and drew his attention, “Don’t be angry. Please.”

“Oh great heavens above,” came a grumbling voice from the hall as Gandalf pushed his way into the room. Behind him came Bilbo. Frodo turned to them and spat a complaint, once again pointing viciously at the Elf. 

Bilbo brightened and bounded over to Frodo’s side, turning his ire on the Elf as well. The pair of them spoke in quick angry Sindarin. The Elf looked very startled to suddenly be so outmatched.

“Ah!” Sam protested, “sirs! No! Please don’t!” Neither hobbit paid him any mind. Gandalf sighed and sat down beside Sam, watching the spectacle. Sam turned to him distressed. 

“Get them to stop, please?” He pleaded. Gandalf snorted. 

“That is not in my power. Besides, this is a prime Baggins bonding activity.”

“Harassing Elves?” 

“Yes,” Gandalf nodded. The Elf roused and made a forceful point. Frodo growled at him, and Bilbo waved a hand in disregard and contempt. “They are winning,” Gandalf noted. Sam nodded. 

“Mr. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo together are a deadly team, and gentlehobbits of the four farthings feared such from them. They are all wit and sharp tongues and they’d honed their timing between them.”

“It’s like art watching them,” Gandalf murmured, “A distinctly hobbity art.”

“I don’t want to know who they’re taking to task do I?” Sam asked, resigned. 

“Best if you don’t,” Gandalf agreed.

“Mithrandir?” the Elf addressed Gandalf. Gandalf cast an annoyed look at the Elf and spoke to him in Sindarin to which the Elf straightened his shoulders and backed out of the room, muttering. Gandalf snorted as Frodo slammed the door behind him and locked it. He spat out a final venomous word. Bilbo turned in shock and Gandalf coughed. 

“Frodo Baggins!” Bilbo cried and turned to Gandalf, “Did you teach him that?” Gandalf shook his head, his expression of complete innocence. “Well, I certainly never did.”

“Teach him what?” Sam asked. 

“Never you mind,” Bilbo said flatly. Frodo moved back to the bed, climbing up to settle between Gandalf and Sam. Gandalf sighed and patted Frodo’s back. 

“ _Berio ven Eru,_ ” he said. Frodo sniffed but remained silent. “Niriodel means well,” Gandalf said, casting a look down at Sam, “but he does not know when to leave well enough alone. He shouldn’t have come here.”

“Seems like he was trying to apologize. But Mr. Frodo was having none of it,” Sam said.

“Hm. No,” Gandalf said and fixed Frodo in his gaze, “Excuse us a minute Sam,” he said and began conversing with Frodo, who had gone sullen. Bilbo pulled up a chair to the bedside.

“Good morning Samwise, how are you feeling?” Bilbo asked. 

“I’m feeling much better Mr. Bilbo,” Sam said. As he spoke he was vaguely aware that Frodo was giving Gandalf short quick answers, along with his sullen silences. 

“Dreadful business, I hear,” Bilbo said frowning, “I can’t imagine what the Elves were thinking, ah, but that’s not my place to say I suppose. Still, I’m very sorry that you had a hard time last night.”

“Honestly sir,” Sam said shaking his head slowly, “I can’t remember much of it, and what I do remember seems like it was a dream. It weren’t nice, aye, but I don’t feel that bad now.”

“Good to hear,” Gandalf said, looking over at him. Sam looked up to meet the wizard’s keen gaze.

“Yes sir. Thank you for that tonic. It seems like it done the trick.”

“A trifle, my dear hobbit,” Gandalf waved and turned back to Frodo, frowning as he spoke again in Sindarin. Sam recognized the stubborn jut of Frodo’s jaw and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh dear,” he said quietly to Bilbo. Bilbo turned back and cast a look at his nephew and chuckled ruefully.

“Indeed,” he murmured.

“What is Mr. Gandalf saying…?” Sam asked.

“He’s telling Frodo that the Elves want to see him. More of that sequestration, I believe,” he said.

“And Mr. Frodo’s not having it,” Sam observed.

“No he is not,” Bilbo said and crossed his arms, observing the pair, “Too right, in my opinion.” Gandalf looked up and scowled at Bilbo.

“Bilbo Baggins, you are not helping.”

“I think it’s quite right after what they did last night.”

“Oh great heavens,” Gandalf growled, “Do any of you think that the Elves were out to hurt Samwise? They honor him as highly as they honor Frodo. They were trying to grant him gifts that are beyond the reach of mortal ken. They did not think him ready for such things and indeed he was not. It is only through their wisdom and power that Sam was not destroyed outright, and instead only suffered a headache and a bad night.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Gandalf,” Sam said bowing his head, “I ought not have wanted the Elves to do magic on me. Not if they thought it was a bad idea. I didn’t mean-”

“Well, even if they had good intentions,” Bilbo interrupted, “They should have had Frodo there with him, and you too.”

“ _Man so pent?_ ” Frodo asked.

“Yes,” Gandalf said, “But the Elves do not always understand the needs for companionship. They believed Sam had a better chance of widening his consciousness if there were no distracting elements, like myself, and certainly Frodo.” 

Sam looked to Frodo, who watched them.

“But that’s not right for us,” Sam murmured, his voice tight with emotion. “We’ve done the impossible, but we done it together. Always together.” 

“I know, dear Sam,” Bilbo soothed.

“ _Man so pent?_ " Frodo asked again, annoyed now, and gestured to Sam. Bilbo began to speak to him in Sindarin. 

“Alright!” Gandalf sighed, “We’ll leave it be for now. Here, have another breakfast, all of you.”

“Bribing us into better behavior with breakfasts,” Bilbo grumbled and resumed his conversation with Frodo.

“I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t work,” Gandalf said. Bilbo paused and squinted at him.

“Well really,” he said and turned away in contempt. 

“Bad,” Frodo snorted at them and poured himself some tea.

Sam buried his face in his hands. He was the cause of all this and he hated to see people who were dear to him set at odds against one another on his behalf. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. 

“Ah, buck up lad,” Bilbo said as Sam peeked from between his fingers to see the other hobbit smiling at him. “We’ll get all this sorted. Never fear.”

“Yes sir,” Sam said quietly.

They all tucked into breakfast; even Gandalf stayed to drink tea and eat toast and jam. He’d moved from the bed to sit in the only chair large enough for a big person.

As they ate, Frodo took Sam’s free hand and turned to give him a rueful look. Sam blinked as Frodo drew his hand up and kissed his knuckles. Sam smiled, touched by the gesture. He wasn’t sure if it was an apology or a reassurance, but he liked it. He put his arm around Frodo’s back, the pair of them cuddling as they drank tea. 

“Now, Sam,” Gandalf said, “I’ve made Frodo promise that he’ll let you out of that bed this afternoon, but not before I give you the explanation I promised you. You must be terribly confused about this whole thing.” Sam shrugged uncomfortably.

“Seems fair clear what happened. Something went wrong with what the Elves were doing and it didn’t work. No harm’s come of it, but Mr. Frodo’s so angry.”

“Well, I hope no harm has come of it,” Gandalf said seriously, “But don’t be too hard on Frodo he does have a reason to be angry. As I’ve told you, the Elves were trying to grant you a widening of consciousness that would allow you to speak in the ways of the wise. The Elves believed that they could grant you this by sending your spirit to the halls of the high ones. But such a journey tests one in ways that you were not prepared for. The Elves could not keep you safe against the fires of the spirit that assaulted you, and you were nearly lost.”

“Oh,” Sam said softly. Frodo put a comforting arm around his shoulder and sighed, staring out the window.

“Some of the council thought you were too far gone but were willing to risk their own spirits against the dangers to retrieve you. They were trying to decide who would go when one spoke up and volunteered himself. It was Elrond who brought you back.”

“Mr. Elrond did?” Sam cried, “He is safe isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Gandalf said. Sam sat back and thought on the wizard’s words for a long moment.

“I’m glad. I couldn’t bear it if he were hurt cause of me…. Nobody said as it was dangerous,” he said softly, “nor that they didn’t think it was a good idea. Or,” he sighed, “maybe they did, but I couldn’t understand them.”

“They didn’t think it would be as dangerous as it was. Frodo slept in the presence of the high ones and was healed.”

“But it did things to him,” Sam said bitterly, “Made him forget his own tongue.”

“Which should have told us that meddling in these affairs with mortals is unpredictable at best,” Gandalf sighed.

“And I’m not as strong as him,” Sam said quietly, “Where he could pass unhurt, I failed.” Bilbo leaned over and clasped Sam’s hand and shared a quiet exchange with Frodo, translating for him. 

“That is not what happened,” Gandalf said softly, “Don’t think like that.”

“If you say so sir,” Sam said bowing his head. “But then why do the Elves want to see him again? It wasn’t Mr. Frodo that was the problem.”

“Sam,” Frodo said forcefully. Sam turned as Frodo let out a stream of words, only pausing to glance at Bilbo every so often, waiting as he translated. 

“Frodo said to tell you,” Bilbo said slowly, “that you did not fail. He asked something impossible of you, and you tried to give it to him anyway, because you are strong-hearted and brave but it should have never been asked of you and he begs your forgiveness. Your life and happiness are worth more than anything, and should never have been risked. He says that he is the one who failed, because he put you in that position and he could not protect you. Ah-” Bilbo paused and turned back to Frodo, “ _Althand, ionneg._ ” Frodo shook his head and fixed Sam in his gaze.

“You are important,” he said. Sam clasped his hand, touched. He glanced at Bilbo.

“Please tell him thank you, and that he didn’t fail me. He wasn’t to know how dangerous it was. The Elves didn’t even know that.” Bilbo translated but Frodo didn’t answer. He only held tight to Sam’s hand. 

“To answer your question, Sam,” Gandalf said after a pause. “The Elves are concerned for Frodo. He gained something in all this and we aren’t sure what.”

“He was glowing again last night,” Sam breathed. Gandalf nodded. “Is it dangerous for him?”

“I do not think so. But we want to be cautious.”

“Be as cautious as you can for him, please,” Sam urged quietly.

“We will Sam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naethen: I’m sorry
> 
> Berio ven Eru: May Eru protect us
> 
> Man so pent?: What did he say?
> 
> Althand, ionneg: That’s not so, my boy.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that afternoon, Sam got up and walked into the hall, despite grumbling from Frodo. 

“Oh, none of that,” Sam said, casting a look at Frodo and Frodo snorted and followed him, his expression still stubborn. Sam chuckled and linked his arm with Frodo’s as they walked. “I suppose this serves me right, eh? For all the times I over coddled you. Why, I remember there were times I wanted you to rest after we got back from the journey and got right upset if I found you working on the book. Remember the time I stole your ink and wouldn’t let you be until you went to bed? I’m sorry if I annoyed you, but I was worried. I knew you weren’t well.”

Frodo called out to a passing Elf and spoke, glancing at Sam. The Elf turned his attention to Sam as well and blinked curiously.

“Sir, pardon me, but your companion wishes to know where you are leading him,” the Elf said. Sam thought a moment. He hadn’t really had a destination in mind, but now he did.

“Tell him please, that I want to go to the woodlands above the house,” Sam said. The Elf turned to Frodo and spoke and Frodo blinked in shock and sent a surprised look at Sam and began speaking quickly.

“Your companion says,” the Elf began but Sam raised a hand.

“Tell him I am going up there with or without him and I ain’t arguing,” he said stonily then added guiltily, “Begging your pardon.” The Elf spoke to Frodo but surprisingly Frodo didn’t argue. He only cast another look at Sam and nodded slowly. “Right then,” Sam said with some satisfaction and nodded to the Elf, “Thank you.”

They passed out of the house and went up the hills in silence. Sam walked slowly, somewhat to keep Frodo appeased that he wasn’t pushing himself but more for not being in a hurry. The woods were beautiful and there were some many plants and views of the sea that Sam couldn’t make himself push on without taking his fill. Frodo was beside him, a silent guarding force. 

It was a strange dynamic, Sam reflected, that Frodo should be his protector. In the past Sam had fancied himself Frodo’s protector in some ways, though closer to the truth was that they had both been desperate to protect one another and feared that they were too weak to do it. Still, Sam’s wellbeing had never been Frodo’s sole mission, the way it seemed now. 

As they mounted a particularly steep hill and paused under the pine trees Frodo touched his arm, sending him a pleading look. Sam had wanted to reach the high point he had discovered the other day, but he didn’t have it in him to refuse Frodo. So they paused and Sam sat down under the pine trees and gazed out into the woods, able to peer into the valley they had just left. Frodo sat beside him and after a moment of hesitation, slipped his arm around Sam’s and clasped his hand. 

They sat in silence for several minutes until Frodo began to sing quietly. Sam closed his eyes and listened happily. He had always liked the sound of Frodo’s voice and he was drifting into a doze when Frodo suddenly broke off. Sam opened his eyes, and turned to see Frodo wiping his face, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Oh, dearie,” Sam murmured and leaned forward to embrace Frodo. He sighed as Frodo accepted the comfort, turning to set his cheek against Sam’s shoulder. “Mr. Gandalf told me a lie,” Sam murmured softly, “there is always a bit more suffering. Ah, but that you could be spared any grief.” 

To be honest, Sam couldn’t fathom Frodo’s unhappiness. To his mind there wasn’t anything too terrible to be upset over; true they couldn’t speak to one another but they were both well and Sam had even come through the Elvish magic all right. “Your Sam is here,” he breathed. Frodo opened his eyes and stared at him for a long moment until Sam began to feel slightly uncomfortable, then Frodo reached down between them and took Sam’s hand in a firm grip. He closed his eyes and suddenly Sam felt the same dizziness, the same falling sensation creeping up his spine.

“ _Av-'osto, Sam,_ ” Frodo said. Sam blinked and gripped Frodo’s hand.

“Oh Frodo,” he murmured, “We shouldn’t be doing such, should we?” But even as he said it he didn’t draw his hand away. Now that he knew what was happening between them he didn’t feel frightened. He drifted for several moments in the warm feeling, unseeing and enthralled, until he remembered how this had pained Frodo before. He jolted back to himself and focused his gaze on Frodo, but now there was no pain in his face, only peace. Taking that as a sign, Sam relaxed and let Frodo do as he wanted. He had always trusted Frodo and he was not going to begin doubting him now.

Frodo began to speak, but the words had no meaning, just as before, but Sam could feel a slight sensation blossoming up from the words, and a terrible drowsiness. He gave into it and slumped heavily against Frodo, his eyes still open but he was fast falling into a dream. In another instant the warmth of the spell Frodo had weaved around him overcame his senses and Sam knew no more for a time.

When he came back to himself he was not in the glade but standing on a beach. His ears filled with the noise of the waves and something else too- people were talking. Struggling, Sam came full awake again, for the voices were familiar. He turned and saw a group of Elves standing tall and grim, and beside them Gandalf. Before them Frodo stood, facing the group, his face deathly pale but his eyes alight with anger.

“Have mercy,” Frodo cried and Sam gasped in anguish at his tone. He had only on a few occasions heard Frodo speak in such a way, his voice broken and filled with pain. Sam was terrified of this, unsure of when or where he was and so he tried to cry out, to make Frodo look at him, but he found that he had no voice. 

“You, Frodo son of Drogo have the Lady’s light. That is why you were allowed to pass here. But this hobbit? He has no claim to this land.”

“His suffering must count. And his deeds in service to the wise and the world,” Frodo said softly.

“He has had little suffering that I can see,” the Elf sneered, “his life has stretched before him, long and pleasant. He had his adventure and played a role, but many have had an adventure and played a role. He will not be allowed to bide in our land solely based upon your need for companionship.” Sam gaped. Had the Elves tried to make Bilbo leave the Blessed Realm? Sam realized that of course the Elves didn’t let just anyone come to their land, but he had thought that an invitation was enough.

“You would ask Frodo, savior to your kin and their lands, to bide here without that companionship?” Gandalf asked frowning deeply.

“He will find blessing beyond companionship here,” another Elf said, “The gift of this land will ease any-”

“You do not understand hobbits,” Gandalf growled.

“It is not companionship,” Frodo said suddenly in a low clear voice, “It is the only reason that you and your kin escaped the shadow. I may have been bold in giving him the promise to follow me across the sea, but that promise was the only way that we could bear to part.” Sam gasped. Him! They were talking about him!

“And many have loved and been separated,” the Elf said softly, “Even those who accomplished great deeds. It was not in your power to grant him such a gift as passage to the Blessed Realm. You have offered him a false hope. No matter what you believe directed your words, master, you had no right to say it,” the Elf in the center was saying.

“Surely it is his right,” Gandalf said turning, “You see that the light shining in him. And a hobbit would not dare such a boon unless it came to him. Unless fate directed-”

“A hobbit does not rule the Blessed Realm, no matter what he has done,” the Elf said with sudden anger, “Many have suffered greater than he for the fate of our world and been granted nothing. We have seen what happens when mortals try and take this Realm for their own. It is not to be controlled, and its blessing cannot be taken by force.”

“He is not asking that,” Gandalf said sternly

“I offered him only what he has ever sought,” Frodo breathed with heat, “a place at my side.”

“Sam bore the evil,” Gandalf said slowly, “that gives him as much right as Bilbo to be here. I did not view Frodo’s promise as rash.”

“Bilbo Baggins is under the protection of Elrond, the Lady Galadriel, and yourself. It is the three of you who allowed his passage. But that does not mean that this hobbit may issue the same sorts of invitations. Where will it end? Will you, Frodo, ask that the same gift be granted to your cousins, Peregrin and Meriadoc?” Frodo’s eyes widened and he hid his face, but not before Sam saw the pain there.

“I am Sam’s advocate,” Gandalf said, “I am sure that Elrond and the Lady Galadriel will speak for him as well. It is not only Frodo’s will that Samwise be allowed to pass here.” 

“I am in no place to stand against your wishes,” the Elf said, “but his rash promise in defiance must be atoned for.” He turned and fixed Frodo in his gaze. Frodo looked up, silent and afraid.

“He has suffered enough!” Gandalf cried, “And he did not mean any defiance. You will not rob him of the blessing and healing that he came here to seek.”

“No,” the Elf agreed, “I propose that he find healing in this atonement. Let him spend time in the presence of the High Ones. He will learn his folly and they will burn away the discord in his spirit.”

“I will not allow it,” Gandalf said, anger in his voice for the first time, “Such a thing would be to endanger him beyond any peril he has faced.”

“True healing is dangerous,” the Elf said, “those are my terms. No boat of mine shall carry the hobbit otherwise.”

“Then I shall do as you ask,” Frodo said. “And gladly. I will do anything you ask of me, if only you will bring Sam to these shores.”

“No,” Gandalf cried, “This is deeper folly than you know, Frodo. There are other ways. We shall find a way-”

“It’s true that I gave him the promise when I had no right to. I was wrong and I want to pay for it. I will not let consequences fall on him.”

“It is fate that he be here,” Gandalf said, “No one will keep the pair of you from meeting again.”

“No,” Frodo said softly, “But they can make it very difficult. I tell you, I will not let him face any more difficulty.”

“You don’t deserve difficulty either,” Gandalf sighed. Frodo bowed his head and the sea filled Sam’s ears once more and he found himself in the glad, birdsong and afternoon light all around him. He stared at the forest floor, disoriented for a long moment before sitting up, groaning as he did. He turned and found Frodo looking at him, their hands still joined. Sam caught his breath.

“Oh, dearest,” he murmured and brought Frodo’s hand up, kissing it, “my dear hobbit.” Frodo gulped and leaned forward, wrapping Sam in a tight embrace. 

“You are important,” Frodo said once more, “I fight for you. Always.”

“I know you do. And I will fight for you,” Sam said back. 

⁂

That evening they parted as usual in the hallway, telling one another goodnight. Frodo cast a lingering look at him before turning away. Sam had an urge to take Frodo’s hand and lead him into his room. He didn’t want to say goodnight. 

“Frodo?” Sam breathed. Frodo turned back, pausing. Sam went still, a little horrified at himself. 

“ _Sam, muin nín, ma den? Ci vaer?_ ”

“Oh,” Sam stepped close and put his arms out. Frodo stepped close, clasping his arms, looking bewildered. “Can I hold you?” Sam asked, feeling unhappy that he couldn’t ask it in Sindarin. He was sure Frodo wouldn’t understand that. Sure enough, Frodo’s bewilderment didn’t ease. Instead he put a hand to Sam’s forehead.

“You are sick?” Frodo asked. “You are hurt?”

“No,” Sam whispered, wanting to draw away and give this up. But he’d worry Frodo. He eased. He was getting himself worked up over the things he couldn’t do. There was plenty he could do. He took Frodo’s hands and gently pulled them up to his shoulders. 

“Thank you, for today,” he said quietly. Frodo stilled and understanding came into his eyes. He drew Sam closer and Sam put his arms around Frodo’s back. “Thank you for all of it.”

“My heart hurt for you, that time,” Frodo whispered. “For many times.”

“My heart hurt for you too,” Sam whispered back. Frodo reached up and let his palms cup Sam’s cheeks. Sam felt like melting.

“With you, my heart has peace,” Frodo added softly.

“Oh, Frodo,” Sam breathed. He felt tears in his eyes. Frodo drew him close and Sam felt himself being cradled and gentle kisses were pressed to his head. 

“Stay? Tonight?” Sam asked. “With me?” Frodo drew back and smiled at him. 

“Yes,” he said. 

⁂

The next morning Gandalf visited them once more. This time Frodo’s anger had cooled enough so that he was persuaded to go with Gandalf to see the Elves. 

“You’ll see him again today,” Gandalf promised Sam as they left, “I’ll make sure of it.” Sam shyly thanked the wizard. 

Sam spent the rest of the morning walking through the gardens and then resting in a library for a time. He enjoyed the peace and quiet of this place, and it was not so bad to be surrounded by such beauty. It was beginning to sink into his bones and he liked the feeling. Of course, he thought as he walked toward the kitchens for lunch, it could not be half so beautiful to him if Frodo was not here. 

He asked for a basket to be packed for him and took it out behind the manor. He trudged slowly through the golden fields and watched the nettle trees sway in the sea breeze. When he came to a stream at the edge of the field he paused and looking around decided this made for a pleasant spot for lunch. He sat and unpacked his basket under an old oak tree. The creek tumbled over smooth stones and wound down the hill and then fell out of sight. He would have to investigate to see if a waterfall lay hidden beyond the bracken. 

The sun was warm and he felt drowsy, all the more so after finishing a lunch of cheese and bread and honey. He set his back against the base of the oak and slept.

When he awoke he was first aware of a pleasant warmth at his side. He opened his eyes and, unsurprised, saw Frodo settled in next to him. Frodo was awake but barely. He sent Sam a drowsy smile.

“Hello,” he said. Sam grinned and curled closer.

“Hello,” he answered. Though he felt more at peace than he could recall feeling in a long time Sam was struck suddenly with a deep yearning as he watched the filtered sunlight shift over Frodo’s skin. He wanted to kiss him.

Instead he leaned back and closed his eyes, savoring the sound of gentle wind and the warmth at his side. Once again he slipped into sleep.

When he awoke a second time the sun had shifted to mid afternoon. Sam gave a sleepy sigh and glanced to his right. Frodo still slept nestled against him and the oak tree. He took the chance to look his fill, if he could ever get his fill of Frodo’s face. It was a joy to set eyes on him after so many years of wishing for him. To see him now, happy, relaxed and at peace was best yet. And, Sam had always thought him handsome. 

Frodo’s eyes opened, and Sam felt a little abashed to be caught looking, but Frodo only gazed back.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Sam murmured, “Did you feel me eyes on you, darling?” Frodo might not understand the words, but the softness of his voice and his eyes might tell enough of what he meant. Frodo gave him a sleepy smile and lifted his head, touching his forehead to Sam’s. He stilled and closed his eyes. Sam felt the world shrink to this small nest amongst the weeds and of Frodo’s face so close to his own that he could smell the faint pleasant scent of cider on Frodo’s breath, warm on his cheek. 

Sam lifted his face just a bit to let his nose drift lazily across Frodo’s face, and then giving into the moment, he pressed the ghost of a kiss to his lips. Frodo gasped and sat up. Sam felt a wave of cold shame hit him. 

“Oh! Ah,” Sam sputtered, his hands going nerveless and shaking. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Frodo said gently.

“No,” Sam said, miserable, “I ought not have done that. I didn’t mean to. It’s just. It felt...” He could feel tears gathering. “Oh Frodo. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.” He paused, remembering the Sindarin word for that. “ _Naethen_ ,” he breathed, " _Naethen_ "

“Sam, it’s alright,” Frodo soothed and drew close once more. “All good.” But Sam shook his head, tears falling down his cheeks. Frodo watched him a moment then touched his cheek and leaned in, angling his face for a kiss. Sam stiffened and broke out of Frodo’s embrace. 

“No, no you don’t need to try and,” Sam gasped, “you’re trying to make me feel better, but you don’t need to!” Frodo froze, eyes wide. 

“Sam,” he said softly, then sighed. “Sam Sam Sam.” Sam couldn’t help it, he reached for Frodo’s hand and held it, clasping it with both of his hands. 

“You think I’m silly, don’t you?” Sam whispered. Frodo didn’t answer, but he took his hand out of Sam’s grasp and pulled him into a hug. It was precisely what Sam needed. He clung to Frodo and put his cheek on his shoulder and cried as Frodo rubbed his back. 

" _Avaro naeth, mell nín,_ ” Frodo said in his ear. 

Sam closed his eyes, soothed by Frodo’s touch, but he still felt wretched. He’d overstepped. Frodo was being gentle with him, but he’d overstepped nonetheless. 

_I’ve been too careless with my heart,_ Sam thought, _all the efforts we’ve made to reconnect have done more than bring us back together. That closeness woke up those feelings in me. Fooled me into thinking that he was wanting the same things I was. And so I wasn’t careful enough to keep my feelings in check._

Frodo sat back just a bit and drew out a handkerchief. He pressed it into Sam’s hand. Sam felt calmer now and wiped his cheeks and blew his nose. He stilled, looking down at the soiled cloth, mortified that he’d blown his nose on Frodo’s handkerchief. He opened his mouth to try and promise that he’d wash it, but Frodo took it and tucked it into his pocket again, seemingly unconcerned. He returned his gaze to Sam. 

Frodo spoke then, beautiful lilting words. Sam drank it in, adoring the careful attention Frodo was giving him. Frodo paused and drew back, his words ending in a question and he held out his hand. Sam looked down at it and then back up at Frodo. From the intensity of Frodo’s expression this was important. And his hand, held out like that, was he offering another one of those experiences? Memories? Whatever they were, they seemed to be important to Frodo. Sam stilled, then met Frodo’s eyes and nodded. He put his hand into Frodo’s. 

It came on at once this time, no dizziness or disorientation, only darkness and then he was standing in his back garden, or rather Bag End’s back garden as it had been in his youth. His heart caught in fondness for the place for a moment, then he turned and saw Frodo. He was seated on the low wall near the pump, looking out over the vegetable garden and to the hills beyond. He looked young but this must have been some time after Bilbo left, for he held Bilbo’s pipe in his hand, and Bilbo had not relinquished that until he left for Rivendell. 

Below, at a far distance in the field of apple trees Sam could see himself, carrying a ladder to prop against the nearest tree. Frodo was watching him, looking wistful.

“It’s not that easy Merry,” he said. Sam blinked as Merry, a young Merry came into view and joined Frodo at the wall.

“No one has ever accused you of taking the easy way,” Merry sighed. Frodo gave his cousin a rueful look. “I’m not wrong. You get yourself balled up in all sorts of messes that any reasonable hobbit would avoid.” Frodo snorted. 

“I suppose that’s true. And true in this case as well.”

“Just because most hobbits would avoid the fuss doesn’t mean I think you should,” Merry said, his voice dropping lower and the teasing tone evaporating.

“You know me well enough to know I don’t care a wit for fuss,” Frodo laughed. “In fact I like a bit of fuss and bother.” Light banter, this Sam recognized. The gentle teasing between cousins. He had heard it go on for hours deep into the evening, with very little said really. It was something that Frodo and Merry enjoyed and so Sam had learned to enjoy listening to it. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed it.

“But not when it involves Sam,” Merry said quietly. Sam paused, shocked a little to hear his name at the center of a conversation between the two and shocked at how Merry abandoned the easy teasing tone. He couldn’t imagine that he could have been a serious topic of conversation between these two back then, for he had always believed they gave him little thought.

“No,” Frodo agreed and his mood dimmed, his eyes drawn back to the orchard. “No, he’s never asked for trouble in his life.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have chosen his friends among Bilbo Baggins’ followers. We make a habit of asking for trouble.” Frodo’s expression didn’t clear. “Frodo,” Merry added seriousness in his voice, “Put it to Sam. Let him work it out. He’s sensible. And if you’re worried of losing his good opinion, then don’t. He’ll not turn away from you.” Sam watched them, feeling as if the ground beneath him were falling away. This period of his life was full of settled memories, golden times with little strife and only easiness between him and Frodo. That Frodo should have struggled with anything to do with him was shocking.

“I would usually agree with that,” Frodo said, his voice tight.

“But this is a bit much?” Merry asked sympathetically. Frodo gazed down and nodded. “Do you think he knows that you love him?” Again Frodo was quiet for a long moment, then nodded.

“In some sense, anyway,” Frodo said. Love? Sam thought, feeling light headed. It was an easy word to come to him now when thinking of Frodo, but back then… Yes, even back then. Though he had been more in the habit of leaving things like that unexamined.

“And,” Merry paused, “do you think he loves you?” Frodo’s eyes slipped shut and he was silent. Oh, Sam thought, oh Frodo, you must know I do. 

“I… perhaps. Again, in some sense,” Frodo murmured.

“Even if you think he only loves you like a friend would, don’t you think that love would tell him you’ve good intentions?” Merry asked. To Sam’s surprise Frodo laughed.

“I doubt he’d think the worst of me, but he does think me rather naïve.”

“No!”

“Yes! At market I can see him thinking I’m being cheated by the miller because of my soft heart.” Sam felt a wave of shame. It was a blow to learn that Frodo had known his foolishness, had known it for a long time. “Yet he’d hold a grudge against any hobbit who said such a thing about me.” Frodo demurred, and there was fondness in his voice. “So I can well see him believing I don’t know what I’m talking about if I speak of love to him. He’ll see love as a practical thing, a step taken after formal courtship with an eligible girl. He’ll pity me for somehow getting my heart tangled up in the wrong place.” Would he? Sam tried to think back to what his reaction would have been, but he wasn’t sure anymore. He only knew that it hurt to hear Frodo say such a thing.

“And you don’t want to face that pity?”

“Not especially. But that isn’t what stops me,” Frodo dropped lower, his chin resting on the stone wall, “Even if he were to be receptive, I risk overturning his life if I go to him. Mine too, of course. And what would his family think? Strange Frodo Baggins, taking advantage.” 

“Oh Frodo. You do yourself and the Gamgees a disservice.”

“Maybe,” Frodo sighed. “I just couldn’t bear for Sam to be hurt over it. And really, there’s nothing to stop me loving him from a distance.”

“And you won’t regret never telling him?”

“I can’t know that,” Frodo mused, “But I don’t see myself feeling bitter about it. And there may come a time when I don’t feel as I do now, when it’s easier to love him from afar.”

“You mean a time when you don’t wish to take him to bed?” Merry asked. Frodo was silent. Sam reeled. He had never thought to hear such a thing said out so plainly, and it only served to make the whole exchange more shocking. It didn’t seem possible that the Frodo he knew in the Shire had wanted to bed him and yet Merry was acknowledging the fact with little trepidation and neither did Frodo seem shocked by it. “Maybe,” Merry continued, “if you don’t regret telling him how you feel you might regret never laying with him.”

“Merry,” Frodo muttered, wincing. 

“You’re not innocent enough to think he won’t be warming a few beds before he settles down. See if he’d like for one of those beds to be yours.” Sam would have blushed if he could. 

“That might make things a little complicated between us,” Frodo said tightly, not looking at Merry.

“Only if both of you let it.”

“I’d be afraid,” Frodo murmured. He stopped and sat up, not finishing his thought until Merry gave him a pointed look. “I’d be afraid that in taking him to bed I would be weak enough to tell him more than I should, or that I would like it too well.” He closed his eyes, “No, I mustn’t. I couldn’t bear putting myself or him through that, just for a tumble.”

“That’s up to you, of course- and him, if ever you tell him,” Merry said. “But I’d not swear it off forever. You never know how things might come out. And for what it’s worth, I think it would be good for both of you, even if you can’t bring yourself to tell him your whole heart.”

Sam came to himself again in the glade and opened his eyes. He looked up into Frodo’s anxious face and felt tears rush hot to his eyes. He couldn’t separate out and name all the emotions tumbling through him just then. Frodo seemed to be alarmed at his tears but Sam couldn’t stop them. He embraced Frodo, and curled down, to press his face to Frodo’s shoulder.

“Understand?” Frodo held him tight. Sam wasn’t sure that he did. He was still reeling. Frodo had loved him, had loved him romantically, all the way back then. 

“No,” Sam breathed. 

He felt a touch at his shoulder and drew back as Frodo’s hand moved up to the back of his neck. Sam recognized Frodo’s expression as the same one he wore when he waited for Sam to work out an unfamiliar word when they practiced reading, or when he knew Sam had something to say but only needed to work up the nerve to say it. It was a gentle compassion coupled with infinite patience, and Frodo had only bestowed it on those he loved very dearly. 

_Why is he looking at me like that?_ Sam thought. He could only stay still, helplessly lost without speech. Frodo’s hand moved up from behind his neck and tangled familiarly in his curls. He made a soft wordless sound and leaned forward, angling his head. Sam recognized the gesture and stilled, drawing quick shallow breaths. Frodo paused, looking into his face. Sam felt something open within him and he turned his face up, meeting Frodo. 

Frodo sighed and lifted his chin, catching Sam’s mouth with his own, taking a longer lingering kiss. Sam felt his stomach clench with nerves but the rest of his body was engulfed in euphoria. He drew back after a time, catching his breath and watched Frodo do the same. His cheeks had flushed and he was breathing quickly as he absently brushed a leaf from his dark curls. Sam thought it one of the loveliest sights he had ever seen. 

“You still feel...?” Sam asked quietly. Frodo gazed at him, smiling. Sam felt heat pool inside him. He opened his mouth but paused. He wanted to tell Frodo that he loved him. And he wanted to say it so that Frodo would understand it. But he didn’t have those words. Not yet.

Instead, he drew Frodo into an embrace, settling him against his side. Frodo curled under his arm and together they watched the trees move in the breeze, and listened to soft bird calls. They passed the afternoon this way, content to cuddle and every once in a while, to draw close and share a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Av-'osto: Don’t be afraid.
> 
> muin nín: my dear
> 
> Ma den?: What is it?
> 
> Ci vaer?: Do you feel well?
> 
> Naethen: I’m sorry
> 
> Avaro naeth, mell nín: Don’t be unhappy, my beloved.


	6. Chapter 6

When the sun began to sink down into late afternoon, Sam stirred and together they climbed back down the trail to Elrond’s house. They had tea and went to the hall to read and lounge before the fire until dinner. The evening passed much as any other evening, except that Frodo never left his side. 

When they had eaten their fill they retreated to one of the quieter corners and lounged by a large fireplace, settling into a low couch with thick pillow. Though Sam had spent much of the afternoon napping he felt very sleepy, as if the Elvish magic were working on him, as it had in Rivendell. Frodo was also blinking and looking weary, but he stoutly stayed at Sam’s side and gazed into the fire. After a few minutes Sam shifted and set a hand to Frodo’s back.

“Lay you down,” he said, “if you like.” Frodo only blinked at him, so Sam reached for a small pillow and put it in his lap, then tugged at Frodo’s cloak. Frodo gazed down at it and looked back up at Sam, his eyes full of a memory up on a dark cliff side. The calm before the storm. “There shant be a storm,” Sam said softly, “not now, dearie.” Frodo’s hand covered his and he leaned forward, brushing a kiss to his lips before withdrawing and laying down, his head in Sam’s lap. Sam felt a slight rush of nerves, along with giddy joy. 

They sat together like that for a long while, until Frodo began to snore quietly. Sam smiled, warmed by the sound. He glanced up to see Gandalf approaching. The wizard paused beside them, glancing down at Frodo. 

“Well, hello there Sam,” Gandalf said quiet enough that he would not wake Frodo. 

“Evening Mr. Gandalf,” Sam said. 

“I see that the pair of you have become inseparable once again,” Gandalf commented. Sam lifted his eyes and smiled.

“Yes,” he said, “that we have.”

“So the language isn’t as much of a problem as you thought it would be?” Gandalf asked.

“Oh, t’would be a blessing to speak to him, but I’m content. We can communicate in a fashion and I’m just happy to be at his side again.”

“I heard Bilbo was teaching him,” Gandalf said. Sam nodded.

“He knows a bit now.”

“And that is the only way you communicate?”

Sam drew in a breath and looked up.

“No,” he said, dropping his voice. He peered up at Gandalf, unsure, but added, “He can show me memories. At least, they seem to be memories.”

“And it doesn’t hurt you?” Gandalf asked.

“No, sir,” Sam said. He sighed, “It’s dangerous, isn’t it? But I can’t think he’d let anything hurt me.”

“No, of course not,” Gandalf agreed.

“Maybe it’s alright, if it’s Frodo doing the magic? And it means so much to him.” He added, “Are you going to tell him to stop?”

“No,” Gandalf said slowly, “I won’t take that from him. From both of you. Just be cautious.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam said. Gandalf bent and patted his shoulder, then rose and excused himself. Sam sat for a long time, watching the fire and enjoying the feeling of Frodo’s warm weight in his lap, soothed by the sound of his soft breath. 

⁂

When it grew late, they at last roused themselves and returned to the hallway where their rooms lay. Frodo gave him a warm look and a quiet word, then turned and went into his own room, closing the door. Sam went into his room and likewise closed the door, feeling bemused. He had wondered if Frodo might follow him in. He had even had a dizzying moment of anticipation as they stood in the hallway.

What if Frodo had invited him into his room? Sam sat in his window seat and gazed down on the pine forest and rock cliffs. 

Frodo desired him. Frodo wanted to kiss him, and welcomed his kisses. Sam leaned back, trying not to let himself be swept away by the tide of euphoria that took him every time he let himself think such things. 

“Can it really be?” Sam whispered to himself. He felt stupid for asking; Frodo had made it all quite clear now. It was just so hard to make himself believe it. 

What if it progressed and they ended up in bed together? The heat inside him deepened. That would be a dream, except that he couldn’t speak properly to Frodo, or Frodo to him. Sam had become pragmatic about sex early on, and he knew a fair amount of discussion was necessary, if one wanted to satisfy both sides. He wished then that he and Frodo had lain down together all those years ago. At least then he would know where to start.

But maybe he did know where to start. There had been times in the past, especially after the quest when they had shared a bed more nights than not, times that gave him some hint of what was possible between them. 

Back then, Sam would go to Frodo before bed and kiss his hand and ask Frodo if he might love on him, though he usually phrased it as easing his shoulder or rubbing his neck and back, but they both understood what Sam meant. Frodo had always accepted. He would remove his nightshirt and lie down and let Sam rub and caress him and lay kisses to his wounded shoulder and hand and neck. Sam’s kisses weren’t always confined to those places though. 

Frodo had sometimes asked if he might do it back. Sam had shyly agreed and lay there as Frodo kissed his neck and trailed gentle touches along his skin. It had overwhelmed him nearly, and filled him with such an intense warmth. He’d known it was special back then, though he’d not been able to name it, and he’d held memories of those bewildering glorious nights close to his heart.

 _I could love him like that,_ Sam thought. _At least I could do that. Try it and see if he still likes such things._ Frodo had been responsive to his touch back then. If they were determined, Sam had no doubt the pair of them could work something out. Yes, it was possible.

⁂

Sam went into the little hallway and knocked at Bilbo's study door. It was open, but he didn't feel right just walking in. Bilbo invited him in and sat him down. He had a tea tray and poured Sam a cup.

“Now, Mr. Gamgee,” Bilbo said, “what can I do for you?”

“You know I come here with a purpose do you?” Sam laughed a little. Bilbo chuckled.

“I recognize that look.”

“Well,” Sam put his tea cup down, “I've been reading that Elvish book you give me, and practicing with some of the folks of this house. But there's still some things that the book seems to leave out.”

“Oh?” Bilbo blinked. Sam nodded.

“And besides, I think there's just some phrases I'd like to know. Would you tell me how to say something?” he asked. Bilbo nodded.

“Of course, Samwise. What is it that you wish to know?”

“Well,” Sam glanced down and clasped his hands, “could you tell me how to say, that is, to say, 'I love you'?” he looked up and saw a flash of tenderness in Bilbo's eyes.

“Ah,” Bilbo nodded, “It's, _Gi melin_.” Sam swallowed and tried to repeat the words. Bilbo gently corrected his pronunciation until Sam got it more or less correct.

“Thank you, sir,” Sam said. Bilbo smiled.

“Of course, Sam,” he said, “I'll write it out for you too.”

“Appreciate it,” Sam said quietly.

⁂

That night there was a party on the House grounds. Musicians were playing in the gardens and crowds milled along the lantern lit paths, stopping to gather in small groups for conversation. 

Sam sat quietly beside Bilbo and Gandalf, sipping a beer and listening to their talk and to the music. But he felt his attention drift away, and he kept looking out into the crowd. His heart was thumping. 

He spotted Frodo at last, standing under a columned parapet, close to a food table. There was a small crowd gathered around and Frodo was singing. Sam felt himself smile and he rose, setting aside his drink. 

“Excuse me, sirs,” he said to Bilbo and Gandalf. 

“Goodnight, Sam,” Bilbo said quietly. Sam blinked and turned back. Both Bilbo and Gandalf were watching him, smiling. Sam nodded and hurried off. 

He approached the base of the parapet where Frodo stood, and hung back, listening to the song. Frodo’s song was not a hobbit song, but an Elvish laye. Sam felt himself melting at the beauty of Frodo’s voice. It was a sad song, that much Sam could tell, for Frodo’s eyes held such emotion. And then those eyes met his own. Sam knew how he must look, standing quietly at the edge of the party, lovesick as he watched Frodo sing.

The song ended and there were soft sighs and words of appreciation from the Elves around him. Frodo smiled, his expressions shifting back into politeness. Sam made his move. 

He walked quietly in amongst the tall Elves and waited for them to finish praising Frodo. Frodo turned to him and smiled. 

“Sam,” Frodo said warmly. Sam smiled back and reached for his hand. 

“Pardon me,” Sam murmured shyly and glanced up at one of the Elves. “Could you please ask him if he might come with me?” The Elf nodded and relayed the message. Frodo nodded, answering. 

“He says that he will, Lord Perhael.”

“Ah,” Sam tried not to sputter, “Thank you.” 

He led Frodo away from the crowd and up the stairs, leading to the top of the parapet. He hoped it would be quiet up there.

He needn’t have worried. At the top of the stairs he found the broad stone walkway deserted. Beside him, Frodo sighed contentedly. Besides being quiet, it was beautiful up above the party. They could look down on the crowds and fires and trees and beyond, down to the beach as well. They also had an expansive view of the night sky, with bright burning stars. Sam felt his nerves ease at the beauty. 

He led Frodo down the walk, pausing at a small alcove. There was a bench in the alcove and Sam almost sat down but stilled when he heard the sound of music drifting up from below them. It was a cheery lively tune. He turned to Frodo and stepped back, standing up straight before bowing. Frodo blinked at him. 

“May I dance with you?” Sam asked quietly, holding out his hand. Frodo put his hand in Sam’s, almost reflexively. Sam drew him close and put his hand on Frodo’s shoulder, guiding him. Frodo’s expression shifted from bewilderment into delight. He took hold of Sam’s hand and moved with him, drawing him into the steps. 

They glided together, their bodies able to anticipate the other’s movements. That skill had grown so strong between them during the journey- they could glance at the other and know what he was thinking and react to danger together, trusting completely.

That connection was still there. And now they could use it for dancing and loving one another, not defending their lives from certain death. 

They came to the end of the dance, resting together, neither stepping back. Sam’s hand moved up to Frodo’s cheek and Frodo pulled him closer. Sam could feel his eyes fluttering as he drew quick breaths. Their foreheads touched and then their noses. Sam gazed into Frodo’s face, overcome. He was letting instinct guide him as much as his heart. He angled his face down and kissed Frodo. 

They kissed, just a light touch at first, then they drew back together. Sam felt Frodo’s arms wrap around him, tight and strong. He clasped Frodo back, deepening their kiss as he did. Locked together now, eyes closed, Sam’s world became the soft warmth of Frodo’s mouth on his own. 

When they parted, Sam lifted his gaze to Frodo’s face and was smote by the look in his eyes. Frodo’s expressions were generally reserved- though he’d always been more expressive when he was with Sam- but now his eyes held such deep open emotion that it took Sam’s breath. 

“ _Ae Sam,_ ” Frodo breathed, his hand cupping Sam’s cheek, his thumb rubbing in gentle strokes. 

“Oh, Frodo,” Sam murmured, hearing the emotion in his own voice. He clasped Frodo tight, his heart full and overflowing. “ _Gi melin,_ ” Sam breathed. Frodo gasped and tears sprang into his eyes. Sam pulled him closer even as Frodo clutched him tight. “Ah! Dear! _Gi melin!_ ” Sam said again, so happy to say those words at last. 

“I love you too!” Frodo cried and drew back to gaze into his eyes and touched Sam’s cheek. “ _Meleth e-guilen._ ”

Sam let out a soft cry of joy and tucked Frodo against his shoulder, pressing kisses to his forehead and cheeks. 

“I love you. I love you,” Frodo whispered as he pressed his face to Sam’s neck. “Always love you.” Sam’s throat was too tight to speak and tears burned hot in his eyes. All he could do was hold tight to Frodo and bury his face against his curls. 

Frodo laughed softly, joy in his voice as he held Sam. When he stepped back he took Sam’s hand and drew him along with him. 

“Where are you taking me now?” Sam asked. Frodo didn’t answer, only cast a bright look back at him, with barely contained glee. Sam chuckled and hurried after him. Frodo led them into Elrond’s Hall and up a winding staircase. After a time of climbing Sam realized that they must be going up into the tower. He blinked and stopped dead on the stair. Frodo turned back to him. Sam was paralyzed with a sudden memory of climbing these stairs with tall Elves, going up into the tower. This is where they’d done their magic. Up there they’d made him touch fire.

“Sam?” Frodo stepped down with him and Sam met his worried gaze.

“Magic,” he said and pointed up.

“My magic,” Frodo said. 

“Your magic?” Sam said slowly. 

“Shall we go?” Frodo asked him.

Sam considered this. Frodo would protect him. And if it was his magic Frodo would never let it hurt him. He had been frightened to see Frodo touched by strange light, but then, that light, that magic, was a part of him. And it had healed him. He put his hand in Frodo’s. 

“Yes.”

⁂

They came to the top of the stairs and Sam gasped. There was an arched doorway that towered above them, painted in intricate sun and moon and star patterns. Sam gaped at it as they stepped up to it. It had no handle. Frodo reached up and put his small hobbit hand on its smooth surface. 

“ _Nan Aear a Geil,_ ” Frodo said, “ _edro._ ”

The patterns on the door lit, shining down on them like moonlight. Sam gasped and stepped close to Frodo, clasping his hand once more. A seam in the door opened and the panels slid apart soundlessly, leaving a dark cavernous room before them. 

“Fancy that,” Sam breathed. Frodo turned to him and squeezed his hand, before leading him in. Sam tried not to quiver. He told himself again, whatever was in there, Frodo wouldn't let it hurt him. 

The wide room was dark except for a ray of light that shone down at the center of the room. Sam held tight to Frodo, glancing around them, as his eyes adjusted. He could hear faint sounds of water. Frodo approached the light and reached out, letting it fall on the back of his hand. He took a breath and turned his hand over. Immediately the floor lit in paths of golden light, repeating the patterns on the door. Sam cried out in surprise and stepped around the patterns, marveling at them. Above, small points of warm light winked into existence, falling in softly drifting showers before fading away, even as more points of light appeared at the ceiling, falling in a continuous pattern. Sam watched them, struck.

“They look like fireworks,” he breathed, “after the bang.” He turned to Frodo who was watching him. Golden sparks drifted around him, falling into his hair before melting away. “Beautiful,” Sam breathed. Frodo moved closer and held out his hand.

“Dance?” he asked. Sam took his hand, eager. Frodo drew the close, much closer than they had been down on the parapet. Sam smiled and held Frodo, moving with him. 

“ _Lasto,_ ” Frodo whispered. Sam blinked. The sound of water grew stronger and it was mixed with something else, a sound that Sam had never heard before. He stilled, listening to it. There was a flow to it, like the water, but it was nameless and strange and beautiful. 

“What is it?” Sam whispered.

“Starsong,” Frodo whispered back. Gently, Frodo guided them back into movement, but now they were dancing in the same rhythm as the starsong. Sam closed his eyes. Frodo’s warmth and presence combined with the starsong in his ears touched something inside him and filled his heart. Deep peace came to him then.

Time must have passed, but Sam didn’t feel it in this place. Frodo drew them back to the column of light and together they moved under it. The starsong rose closer and deeper around them and they stilled, their arms wrapped around one another. 

Sam didn’t understand this, but his heart told him that all was well. Frodo had said this was his magic. And Sam trusted him. 

Frodo began to speak gently then, his voice rising and falling and weaving with the song in their ears. 

“ _Pelo nalú i laiss en-Galadh Guil lín._ ”

The golden sparks fell around them and Sam watched them. He had a fleeting memory of golden sparks fading like that around him as he stood on the Hill, the stars above, the sound of laughter and bickering hobbits all around him. And beside him, always, there was Frodo, clapping and whooping with the rest. And he would turn and catch Sam in a hug. 

“ _Harthon gerithach raid gelin a melthin._ ” 

Sam eased back into the present, caught by the love in Frodo’s eyes and the gentleness of his touch, as he reached up and stroked his cheek. 

_He’s blessing me,_ Sam thought. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but it seemed right. 

“ _Saelon, law lîn síla sui Anor._ ”

Frodo leaned in and touched a kiss to his lips. Sam held still, then kissed him back, holding Frodo tight as he did. The golden light fell and caught in their hair, and the stars sang for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gi melin: I love you  
> Ae: Oh  
> Meleth e-guilen: Love of my life  
> Nan Aear a Geil: By the Sea and the Stars  
> Edro: Open  
> Lasto: Listen  
> Pelo nalú i laiss en-Galadh Guil lín: May the leaves of your life tree never wither  
> Harthon gerithach raid gelin a melthin: I hope you will have green and golden paths  
> Saelon, law lîn síla sui Anor : Wise one, your radiance shines like the sun.


	7. Chapter 7

“Don’t be too hard on them Sam,” Bilbo said gently as he helped Sam shift a box of books. He and Bilbo had come back from lunch to find that all of Sam’s bags and furnishings had been moved to Frodo’s room. Sam had been confused, then mortified. “They don’t understand how hobbit courtship works,” Bilbo continued, “To them we move very quickly into everything. So, they assumed...”

“Well they ought not have moved my things without asking,” Sam grumbled and sighed. “I just don’t know how everyone seems to know anything about it. We didn’t say nothing,” Sam said shyly. Bilbo blinked at him. 

“You did kiss Frodo in front of the entire house.”

“What?” Sam gasped, “No? When?”

“At the party. Dear Sam, did you really think the pair of you were hidden? You were standing right at the edge of the balcony, looking down on the whole party.”

“It felt like we were alone! Didn’t think anyone would bother looking up at us,” Sam hid his face. “Anyway, we didn’t stay there long.”

“No, you two snuck up into Elrond's inner sanctum to neck. Cheeky.”

“We- we,” Sam sputtered. 

“For shame Bilbo, don’t embarrass Sam.”

Gandalf appeared from around the corner, Frodo trailing along at his side. He brightened when he saw them. 

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Bilbo laughed, patting Sam’s back, “I say good for you.”

“Yes, good,” Gandalf murmured, “I’m glad. Frodo has been trying to work up the nerve to take you up there.”

“Oh?” 

“It’s a special place. It strengthens the connection that Frodo made with the Valar. We’ve been teaching him how better to use that connection to more safely show you memories and the like,” Gandalf paused, “the Elves had a whole course of study to pursue with him, but Frodo wasn’t interested. He only wanted to know how to show you the visions he can conjure up there.”

“Visions?” Bilbo asked.

“Pretty lights that he wanted to make for Sam.”

“Pretty lights, is that all?” Bilbo chuckled and turned to Frodo, smiling as he spoke in Sindarin. Frodo gasped and smacked his shoulder. 

“Oh ow!” Bilbo cried.

“Serves you right, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf sniffed. 

Sam shook his head, not wanting to know what Bilbo had said. It had made Frodo blush. 

⁂

That afternoon Sam led Bilbo and Frodo out into the courtyard. He’d been given a plot to grow Shire weed and he’d promised to give Frodo a gardening lesson and Bilbo had agreed to translate. They set to work, Sam explaining each step as he worked.

“Now see, I went and pre-sprouted these seeds- saves on space and you can see which seeds are duds. No need for growing medium nor peat pots and the rest. Faster too, since you can trigger germination with just the right level of moisture and heat and don’t have to go waiting on the weather. We’ll just take these sprouted seeds and place them down in the soil.” 

Sam paused and waited. Bilbo blinked, frowning. He sighed and turned to Frodo. He spoke one sentence and fell silent. Sam waited and Frodo waited. Bilbo remained silent. 

“Ah. Mr. Bilbo?” Sam said slowly. Frodo squinted suspiciously at Bilbo.

“ _I dass carnen?_ ” he asked. Bilbo pursed his lips.

“Beg your pardon, but what did you tell him?” Sam asked. Bilbo groaned.

“That that garden thing does a garden thing and it makes gardening happen,” Bilbo said. Sam sat back.

“Mr. Bilbo!”

“I don’t know how to say all that, Sam! My studies never gave me the vocabulary to be able to-”

“Uncle,” Frodo muttered, “your Elf words bad.”

“I know!” Bilbo snapped back. Frodo snorted and said something in Sindarin.

“Oh! Now the boy is complaining about how I pronounce my Sindarin,” Bilbo huffed and slipped back into Elf speech. 

Frodo’s scowl deepened and he growled at Bilbo, making him sputter.

“What’s he saying now?” Sam asked, curious.

“It would make you blush, Sam,” Bilbo said, “I refuse to translate.” 

They worked on; Sam guiding their work. Even without much gardening vocabulary Frodo seemed to get the main idea, and watching Sam he was able to duplicate what he did fairly well. They paused for a break around two and sipped lemon water. 

“Have you given much thought to where you might like to live?” Bilbo asked Sam. Sam blinked and turned. “You know, I have a little cottage not far away.” Bilbo dropped his voice low adding conspiratorially, “It’s much more comfortable than this big place.”

“Oh, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam laughed.

“Once everyone is content that Frodo is well and there’s no need to keep such a close eye on him - which to my mind, it’s been time and more - then we might think about setting up something for you. Or for you and Frodo rather. Or,” Bilbo paused. “Or. Perhaps, you lads might like to live with me? My cottage was built to be comfortable for the three of us. If it ever came to that.”

“Mr. Bilbo,” Sam said hushed, “that’s so kind of you.”

“Er. Well, selfish. Actually,” Bilbo smiled, “I’ve missed you and Frodo. But of course, please don’t feel that you must or even that you must decide now. Listen, I know it could be quite a nuisance, to have some old relative about when the pair of you are a new couple and all.”

“O-Oh,” Sam blushed. 

“We can certainly build something new. But maybe nearby?” Bilbo asked hopefully.

“Of course, if it comes to that, I think,” Sam said. “But maybe to start out with, at least, once we’re able to leave this place, then we could stay with you? If Frodo agrees, too, of course.” He glanced at Frodo. Frodo looked up from his water and blinked at them.

“Frodo is hungry,” he said.

“Frodo needs to remember what pronouns are,” Bilbo said dryly. Frodo looked to Sam, imploringly. 

“Oh, now, Mr. Bilbo! That’s not nice.” Sam scolded Bilbo as he reached out to stroke Frodo’s hand. “I’ll find you some food, dearie.”

“He knows his pronouns Sam. He’s just trying to be cute.”

“He is.”

Bilbo scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Now Mr. Bilbo, if you’re going to be rude to him,” Sam said, “do it in Sindarin please, so as he can defend himself and so as I don’t have to know the details.”

“Oh Sam. Very well.”

“Hey, my dear,” Sam said to Frodo,“ _Aníron vant?_ ”

“ _Anírog tyuru? Masta?_ ”

“ _Maer. Den aníron,_ ” Sam said, shy about his pronunciation. 

“ _Menathab?_ ”

“Are you hungry too, Mr. Bilbo?” Sam asked. Bilbo watched them fondly.

“You two go on. Keep practicing your Sindarin. I think we’ll have a language lesson when you get back.”

“I’d like that,” Sam said. 

⁂

That afternoon they sat with Bilbo in his study, and Sam dutifully copied down the phrases that Bilbo and Frodo taught him. The lesson passed peacefully, save for the occasional verbal scuffle that Frodo and Bilbo got into over pronunciation. On one occasion, Bilbo barked out a laugh at something Frodo said. Sam perked up.

“What was that?”

“Good heavens!” Bilbo shook his head. “Oh, I was challenging him on pronunciation and he got fed up with me. I asked him what fool told him it was pronounced _trenarn_ , and he looked me dead in the eyes and said, ‘the Valar’.” 

“Ah,” Sam blinked, “did they...?”

“Who knows! It’s a damn good come back though,” Bilbo said appreciatively. “Oh, but don’t tell him I said so.”

“Of course not, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam smiled.

After a time, Frodo sat up and spoke to Bilbo, casting mischievous looks Sam’s way, giggling. Sam felt himself smiling just to see Frodo so happy. 

“What’s he saying?” Sam asked eagerly. Bilbo groaned. 

“He wants me to teach you swear words.”

“Oh!”

“I refused,” Bilbo snorted, looking prim. 

“Ah, come now, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam laughed.

“Teach me, Sam! Bad words!” Frodo laughed, falling against him. Sam chortled and put his arms around Frodo. 

“Bad?” he asked. 

“Yes, bad! Please?” Frodo wheedled. Sam giggled. 

“Piss!” he cried. 

“Piss!” Frodo shouted at the top of his lungs.

“You two are far too silly,” Bilbo sniffed and rose going to the door. 

“You’re leaving?” Sam asked. 

“I refuse to listen to Gaffer Gamgee’s most innocent babe teach my boy swears.”

“But he asked me to.”

“Piss hobbit!” Frodo cried out. Bilbo sputtered in exaggerated offense and left without another word, closing the door behind him. 

“Mr. Frodo,” Sam said in mock sternness. Frodo snorted.

“Hîr Samwise,” he growled back. _Lord Samwise_. Sam coughed.

“Hîr, is it?” he frowned, “Hîr Frodo!” Frodo blinked at him, then burst out laughing.

“No!” he laughed, “No, hîr! No Mister! I’m Frodo. Fro-do.”

“Oh. Frodo, hm?”

“Yes. Frodo.”

“Frodo and Sam,” Sam sighed. Frodo’s expression softened.

“Yes. Frodo and Sam,” he agreed. 

Frodo continued the language lesson. Sam wouldn’t have thought it possible for Frodo to teach him, without being able to shift between the two languages, but Frodo managed it. 

“Frodo,” Sam said after a time.

“Hm?”

“Ni lôm,” he read from his notes. _I’m weary._ Frodo blinked and looked up at him. 

“I’m sorry. Come,” he said, taking Sam’s book and putting it away before drawing his arms around Sam. “You are good.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, cuddling up. “You are good, too. And good to me.” Frodo smiled and kissed his cheek. 

⁂

Sam went to return the gardening tools that he’d borrowed earlier in the day. When he returned he found Bilbo and Frodo in the common room that they shared; Bilbo on the sofa, his arm around Frodo, who leaned into his side, dozing. Sam took a seat at the far end of the sofa.

“Hello,” Bilbo said quietly.

“Hello,” Sam murmured, shifting his attention to Frodo, “looks like you forgive each other.”

“Hm?” Bilbo asked sleepily, then glanced down at Frodo. “Oh yes. Our little spats and teasing isn’t serious. Well, hardly ever.” 

“I’m glad.”

“Even when we are serious, he’s too sweet to hold a grudge against me for long. And I may be a stubborn old ass, but he melts my heart in the end.” 

Frodo opened his eyes and turned, spotting Sam. He raised a hand, reaching for him. Sam moved closer and let Frodo pull him into his arms. Sam sighed, leaning into the embrace. Bilbo chuckled and reached over to ruffle Sam’s curls. 

“My dear boys,” Bilbo sighed. Sam smiled, warm and content. 

“Mr. Bilbo, will you please ask Mr. Frodo if I’m too heavy, laying on him like this?” Sam asked quietly. Bilbo dutifully translated and Frodo answered. Bilbo paused, squinting at Frodo. 

“He says you’re alright, Samwise.”

“Is that really what he said?” Sam asked, catching sight of Frodo, struggling to keep himself from giggling.

“No. But he’s being scandalous.”

Sam snorted loudly, which only made Frodo burst out laughing. 

“Well don’t you mind him, Mr. Bilbo.”

“Oh I don’t,” Bilbo laughed and pulled Frodo into a hug. “ _Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhog, ionneg._ ” Frodo’s laughter eased into joy and he put his cheek to Bilbo’s shoulder. Sam could hear the love in Bilbo’s voice. He closed his eyes, even as he felt Frodo’s hand settle on his head. 

Sam fell into a doze. When he woke, his head was in Frodo’s lap and there were soft words being spoken between Frodo and Bilbo. Sam opened his eyes and gazed up at Frodo. Frodo smiled at him and brushed his hand through Sam’s curls. 

Bilbo and Frodo continued their conversation and Sam felt sleepiness sweep over him once more. Frodo’s hand in his hair was so soothing. 

He was drawn from his light doze by Frodo shifting. He looked up to see Frodo turning to embrace Bilbo, who had a hand to his face. He was crying. Sam moved too, taking Bilbo's hand. Bilbo wiped his cheeks and gave them each a smile. He said something quiet to Frodo and then squeezed Sam’s hand. 

“Dear Sam, I'm alright.”

⁂

They dozed the afternoon away, all together, only rousing to go to the Hall for dinner. That evening, Bilbo retired early and Frodo followed Sam back into the comfortable common room across from their rooms. It was stocked with books and Sam soon had a roaring fire going in the fireplace. They each picked out books and settled in together. 

Sam opened his volume- it was a dual language book with words in Westron on the right and Sindarin on the left. Sam read over the passage he’d marked and tried not to smile. 

_Praythee visite mine bower, so that I maye shew thee the fyres of mine ardour._

He’d had the thought of attempting to read the Sindarin line from the story to Frodo as a declaration, but the line made him laugh too much. Imagine Sam Gamgee saying such. 

As the night went on, Frodo grew drowsy and curled himself around Sam’s back. Sam shifted up to accommodate him and Frodo wrapped his arms around Sam’s middle and lay against his back. Sam chuckled and went on with his reading. After a time Frodo grew heavier and Sam thought he might be falling asleep. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, for either of them, he thought.

“Here, Frodo. Shift up,” Sam told him softly. Frodo made a protesting noise, but sat up.

“Mm?” 

“Here,” Sam turned to see a sleepy Frodo looking less than pleased. Sam chuckled and turned to put his back against the sofa arm, drawing his legs up as he lay down. He tugged at Frodo offering him a place at his side. Frodo took the hint and lay against him, tucking himself under Sam’s arm. He left out a mutter of Elvish. 

“Better isn’t it? Don’t grumble so,” Sam scolded and pressed a kiss to his head. “Now, don’t go falling asleep. This is just till I get done reading, see.”

“ _Ollo vae, Sam,_ ”Frodo murmured.

“No. No, Frodo. I know that one. It’s good night or something. No. We’re not a sleeping here.”

“Mmm,” Frodo sighed and tightened his embrace, pressing his cheek to Sam’s chest.

“Ah, lor’,” Sam swore under his breath and went back to his book. When he finished, Frodo was well and truly asleep and Sam hadn’t the heart to wake him. They spent the night on the couch. 

⁂

Sam had begun to feel a deeper desire for closeness with Frodo and it seemed that Frodo felt the same. The next day, Frodo had turned down training with the Elves and Sam had turned down all other invitations that would have taken them from one another. 

They had accepted an offer from Gandalf for a trip down to the beach. Bilbo came too, and the four rode down to the sea, walking south of the village until they reached a quiet shoreline. 

Sam and Frodo set off walking down the sandy expanse, exploring, hand in hand, while Gandalf and Bilbo found a spot in the shade and settled, watching the waves. Sam could hear their voices on the wind, talking and laughing. It made him happy to hear them. 

Together they walked down nearer to the tide, where the sand was tight packed and easier to walk on. The wind stung Sam’s eyes a little and he turned his face inland. The forest came down to the sand, thick and green and lush. 

Frodo stopped and bent, reaching down into the sand to draw out a shell. He stood up, brushing the sand from the flat surface. He studied it, then presented it to Sam. Sam smiled and took it, curious. It was a flat thick disc, with a star shape stamped on the face. He held it close, fascinated by it.

“Shell?” Sam asked. Frodo smiled at him and kissed his cheek. Sam nuzzled back in appreciation. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Frodo said. 

They walked together for about an hour, meandering and exploring, showing one another their discoveries. When it got to be midday, they found a shaded place under a tangle of drift wood and unpacked a small lunch. 

They sat close, sharing the meal of bread, berries, cheese and sausage. Frodo trailed a hand up Sam’s arm, fixing him with a warm look. Sam chuffed in delight, and flirted back, burying his toes in Frodo’s soft foothair. Frodo’s cheeks went pink and Sam laughed, before snatching one of Frodo’s berries. Frodo let out a small cry and turned to him as Sam ate it quickly.

“Burglar,” Frodo growled his eyes sparkling. Sam laughed. Frodo set aside his plate and put his arms around Sam. Sam set his plate down as well, letting Frodo press him back onto the sand. 

“ _Sevin i dhâf gîn an gi mibed?_ ” Frodo murmured against his skin. Sam shivered and clasped him closer. 

“Come here,” Sam pulled him down, “if you’re going to lay me on the sand and make it look like we been doing such, then we might as well do a bit, hm?” he leaned up and kissed Frodo. Frodo melted against him as they kissed. Sam got lost in the sensation of kissing and rubbing along Frodo’s back and feeling Frodo press and roll against him. With only the endless sounds of wind and waves around them it was easy to sink in and lose all sense of time. It was, Sam thought as they drew apart, like their loving was becoming a part of one of those ceaseless forces.

“ _Pogathanc? Dû?_ ” Frodo whispered against his damp skin, as he trailed kisses along Sam’s neck. “ _Aníron gi phuithad._ ”

“That was beautiful,” Sam murmured, dazed by it all. 

“I love you,” Frodo said, lifting his face. 

“And I love you,” Sam said, lifting his hands to cup Frodo’s cheeks. They fell back into a kiss and it was some time before Sam returned to his senses. 

⁂

When they returned from the beach they went to the Hall for supper. The weather had grown chilly as the afternoon faded and Bilbo went to bed early, wanting to be in his room by the fire. Gandalf too disappeared, leaving Frodo and Sam to finish supper by themselves. Frodo had become especially flirtatious, taking every opportunity to brush his hand against Sam’s. Sam was positively glowing with pleasure by the end of dinner. They moved down into the quiet end of the Hall, near a large fireplace with plush seats and sat together, relishing the warmth of the fire and the warmth from one another. Sam gazed at Frodo, overwhelmed by feeling. 

_He wants me, and I want him. I want him so much,_ Sam thought, _it’s just the matter of asking. That’s the trouble._ _I can’t show him what’s in my heart, and I can’t go through a translator, not for this. What can I do? Take him by the hand and lead him to my bed?_ He blushed hot at the thought.

 _No. There’s other ways to ask this,_ he thought. 

Sam turned and took Frodo’s hand gently into his own, drawing Frodo down with him. Frodo curled against his side, looking interested. Sam took a breath and gently brought Frodo’s hand up to his mouth. He kissed Frodo’s finger tips, before carefully taking his index finger between his lips, bringing it deeper as his tongue touched the tip. Frodo drew in a deep startled breath, his face going red. Sam stilled.

“Sam.”

“Do you understand?” Sam whispered. 

“Yes,” Frodo breathed.

“Good?” 

“Very good.” Frodo looked dazed. Sam felt himself smiling and he leaned up to brush a kiss to Frodo’s forehead. 

“Let Sam love you,” he said quietly as he nuzzled into Frodo’s soft curls. Frodo let out a soft murmur and clasped him, pressing his face to Sam’s neck. He began to lay kisses to his skin. Sam drew in a shaky breath. 

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Bed,” Frodo said, watching him with dark eyes. Sam drew a breath, a flutter of nerves. 

“Bed,” Sam agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dass carnen?: Is that all of it?
> 
> Aníron vant: I want food.
> 
> Anírog tyuru? Masta?: Do you want cheese? Bread?
> 
> Maer. Den aníron: Yes. I want it.
> 
> Menathab?: Shall we go?
> 
> Hîr: Lord
> 
> Ni lôm: I’m weary
> 
> Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhog, ionneg: I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh, my boy
> 
> Ollo vae: Sweet dreams
> 
> Sevin i dhâf gîn an gi mibed?: Can I kiss you?
> 
> Pogathanc? Dû?: Do we want to lay together? Tonight?
> 
> Aníron gi phuithad: I want to lay with you.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Mature.
> 
> Note: Posting a little early. Enjoy!

Frodo paused at his door and glanced back at Sam, waiting. Sam straitened and watched him. Frodo took a breath and nodded toward the door, keeping his eyes on Sam as he opened it. Sam considered the invitation and slowly nodded. He caught only the barest hint of relief in Frodo’s eyes but he knew he had seen it.

 _Is he still wondering what I meant when I said ‘bed’?_ Sam wondered. _Must be. He’s trying not to assume, I suppose. But honestly- I sucked on his finger._ Sam felt his cheeks go hot. _Oh lor’,_ _I sucked on his finger._

They went in quietly and Sam closed the door behind them as Frodo lit lamps and turned down the bed. Sam watched, wondering if he should help but he decided that no, he wouldn’t interfere. When he had finished, Frodo turned to him and met his eyes for only an instant before stepping around him to fuss with a hand towel on the shelf by the fireplace. He held up the cloth and nodded toward the wash basin. Sam shook his head, marveling at how nervous Frodo was. He had never seen him like this. 

Frodo replaced the towels and went to the door connecting their rooms and opened it. He glanced at Sam and then dropped his eyes as he came back to stand beside him. He raised his head and motioned to the open door, then after a pause, to his own bed. 

“Go or stay,” Frodo said, wincing as he tried to work out the words. He motioned to his bed again. “Welcome.” Sam peered at him. He had already given Frodo his answer but, it seemed Frodo wanted to leave him ample opportunities to make it clear what he wanted. 

Sam smiled at him, trying to ease the worry in Frodo’s face and stepped closer, catching Frodo’s hand, and held it between his palms. 

“ _Ma, anin gell nîn,_ I want to stay here,” Sam said hesitantly. He had thought this might help Frodo relax, might at last show him that Sam did understand, but instead of relaxing Frodo looked all the more anxious. Sam almost drew his hand away, wondering if he had misunderstood after all but stopped when he saw the color in Frodo’s cheeks darken and noticed that his breath was coming quickly. 

“Oh,” Sam murmured, “you haven’t done this in a while?” Frodo met his eyes but stayed silent. He was painfully nervous and now that Sam saw it he felt only sympathy. Frodo finally gave him a tight smile and withdrew, moving to the bed. Sam moved with him, searching for a way to sooth away his anxiety. He could only speak and hope that some of his meaning came through from the tone of his voice.

“Poor dear,” Sam sighed, “you’ve fought battles that the ancient warriors would shrink from, but your knees are knocking now, just from thinking a touching me.” He bowed his head a moment, then stepped close, lifting his hands to tentatively sink into the curls at each side of Frodo’s face. “Oh Frodo,” he breathed. Frodo's eyes closed and Sam leaned in to kiss his forehead. He lingered, feeling Frodo relax at last. “That's right, dearie,” Sam murmured, “Tis just your Sam. You're Sam who loves you.” Frodo smiled, his cheeks flushing, if nothing else than from the tone of Sam's voice.

“ _Á tulë sinomë,_ Sam,” he said, tugging Sam closer. Sam let Frodo pull them together flush. Frodo’s arms wrapped around his back and Frodo gazed into his face.

“You surprised me, you know,” Sam went on, encouraged by Frodo's bright eyes, “Twould have shocked me in the old days, you wanting me in your bed. But it don't feel so outrageous now. Now I want to be with you. I want to love you, if you'll let me.” Frodo was watched him, longing plain in his expression. Sam smiled and stroked his cheek. “Frodo,” he said quietly. He dipped his head down and meeting Frodo's eyes for a moment and seeing welcome there, closed the remaining distance and kissed him.

“Sam,” Frodo said quietly, when they drew apart. Sam lifted his face to look up. Frodo was flushed and nervous again. He motioned to the bed and made a soft questioning noise. 

“Yes,” Sam answered and hastily added, “ _Ma_.” Yes, again. He’d have said it in all the languages that ever were if he’d known how. Frodo sat on the bed, gingerly unbuttoning his vest. Sam sat down beside him. 

“Sam?” 

“M?”

“... Ah. How big?” Frodo asked shyly. Sam blinked. He felt heat flushing his cheeks. Frodo stared at him.

“Er,” Sam sputtered. Should he just open his pants? He swallowed and drew his hands up, spacing them more or less in a correct approximation. Frodo frowned thoughtfully. Sam felt his cheek go hotter. He curled his hand, showing the width as well. Frodo stared, then his eyes widened. 

“Oh! No! How _much_!”

“Ah?”

“How much! How far. Tonight,” Frodo babbled, “lovemake? Kiss? Sleep? All alright.”

“Ah,” Sam laughed, “oh dear.” Frodo hid his face in his hands, muttering in Sindarin.

“Dearest, dearest,” Sam smiled, putting his arms around Frodo. Frodo groaned and hid his face against Sam’s shoulder. “Ah, Frodo. Easy now,” he gently tugged Frodo up until Frodo met his eyes. “Lovemake?”

“Want?” Frodo asked softly. 

“Yes,” Sam murmured. “You?” Frodo nodded. 

“Yes,” he said and Sam felt him shiver. 

Sam eased down onto the bed and Frodo lay down with him, tucking his legs to the side, watching Sam with solemn eyes. He slipped his shirt off and carefully wriggled out of his undershirt. Frodo reached for both and folded them, before setting them onto a stool at the bedside. Sam smiled faintly at this. Frodo sat up once more, then he too drew off his robe and unfastened the pearl clasps at his neck and down the line of his soft shirt. 

As Frodo’s skin was uncovered, Sam sat forward and touched his shoulder. Frodo stilled and peered at him. 

“Ah. Dear. Sorry. I’m just so happy, everytime I set eyes on this shoulder of yours. I can’t get enough of feeling warmth there,” he smiled, “I know it must be old news to you by now.” Frodo was smiling at him. “Ah. There I go again, talking in a way that gives you no chance of understanding.”

“I understand, Sam,” Frodo said gently.

“Oh?”

“I understand some,” Frodo revised, and sighed, “I speak less.”

“Oh,” Sam stilled, “I wish I weren’t so thick. Here you are, having to do all the work.” Frodo frowned, letting his frustration show and he spoke a few lines of exasperated Sindarin. “Ah. Alright,” Sam relented, “alright. I don’t need to know the Elf words to know you’re a cursing at me for calling myself thick.” He laughed softly, “you win, darling. I’m smart enough for this, hm?”

“Yes. Good,” Frodo said. Sam chuckled and watched Frodo settle in beside him and turned to look at him. The lantern behind him made Frodo look like he was glowing and it was a warm homely glow, not the unsettling elvish glow. Sam smiled and reached out to stroke his hair. Frodo’s expression softened.

“Hm. Well now,” Sam murmured, “you can understand a bit of my talk, hm? I’d best be careful then.” Frodo smiled and moved a little closer. “Else you’ll catch me saying all sorts of things, like when I said you’ve got the softest most beautiful curls in all the lands I’ve ever seen, and the prettiest eyes, and the fairest voice.” He sighed, wistful, continuing, “And that you’ve the strongest heart and the kindest soul, and that you are the bravest best hobbit who ever walked the lands. Ah, the Lady chose the right gift for you- the rarest brightest light that shines when all other lights go out.”

“Sam,” Frodo sighed.

“Hm?”

“I didn’t understand that.”

“Oh,” Sam laughed.

“I didn’t understand but,” Frodo added slowly and drew Sam’s hands into his own, “I understand eyes. I understand voice.”

“Hm,” Sam sighed, closing his eyes as Frodo stroked his cheek. 

“Love words,” Frodo said quietly.

“Aye. Love words,” Sam agreed. Frodo curled close and kissed his forehead and nuzzled him. 

“Sweet good Sam.” 

Sam smiled and put his arms around Frodo, moving down to place a kiss at his neck. Frodo hummed softly and petted Sam’s curls as he moved down to kiss the place where the wraith blade pierced Frodo’s shoulder all those years ago. Sam lingered there, solemn as he stroked Frodo’s back, tracing the line of a long healed whip wheal. His back was unmarked now, and it was only memory that guided Sam’s hand. Frodo reached down to cup his cheek, guiding Sam’s face up. Their eyes met.

 _He’s whole_ , Sam thought, as a bolt of understanding touched him. Frodo’s eyes told him - it wasn’t only his body that had been healed. Sam felt a deep abiding relief and joy. That same awareness touched him again, as Frodo lay a kiss to his lips. 

_I’m whole too_ , Sam realized. He kissed Frodo back, clasping him tight and Frodo pressed against him, rolling their hips together. It felt so _good_. Sam shyly rubbed back, gasping a little when Frodo reached down between them to lay a gentle hand between Sam’s legs. 

“Oh,” Sam whispered. Frodo watched his face as he squeezed and rubbed. It was having an effect- Sam panted softly and when he could bear it no longer, he reached down and opened his trousers. Frodo’s hand slipped in and took him out. 

“Ah, oh please,” Sam murmured, excited to feel his cock harden in Frodo’s grip. 

“Sam,” Frodo teased, light in his eyes, “fuck my hand.” 

Sam choked. 

“Where did you learn to say _that_?” Sam asked, deeply scandalized. Frodo burst out laughing. 

“Elf library naughty books,” he laughed again and cupped Sam’s red cheeks. “You don’t like that?” Sam sniffed. 

“Wasn’t expecting it. That’s all,” he mumbled. Frodo chuckled and kissed his cheek. Sam felt himself smiling. He reached down and stroked Frodo’s thigh. Frodo kissed his cheek again and hummed softly in his ear. The soft simmering heat of arousal began to stir once more, and Sam moved his hand up to cup the warm bulge between Frodo’s legs. Frodo sighed and arched his back, thrusting into Sam’s hand as he unlaced his britches to free himself. 

Sam made a soft happy murmur, struck suddenly by the realization that they were in fact loving one another like this, that this was real and not some daydream. It was a dizzying thought, made more dizzying by the smell of warm aroused hobbit. Sam sank into it joyfully. Then, Frodo’s hand returned to his cock and Sam’s thoughts slipped away. There was only warm touch, Frodo’s face, and the pleasure made between them. 

⁂

Sam wandered through the rooms of a golden ghostly Bag End, gazing at the books on the shelves, plates balanced on desks, as if someone had only just finished tea, and vases full of white flowers that Sam didn't recognize. He shivered. This place was so familiar that seeing it touched with the same glowing fae light that lit the faces of the Elves filled him with unease.

He’d been dreaming before this, he was fairly sure, but somehow he’d slipped out of dream and into this place. Into one of these memories. Sam paused as he stepped into the hallway and gazed down toward the green door. Frodo had brought him here. Sam felt himself smiling and continued his walk down the hallway, curious to know what Frodo was showing him now. The inhabitants of the memories usually made themselves known right away. This memory was different. Bag End was quiet and the details of the place were so exact and clear. 

_Ah, it’s because he knows it so well,_ Sam thought.

He rounded a corner and peered into Frodo's old study and bit back a cry. Frodo stood before the large round window, his back to Sam as he looked down onto the rolling hills of the West Farthering. Sam stilled, transfixed. He knew it was only a memory but Frodo looked so real, drawn into focus like none of the other memories had been. Sam waited for the memory to start but Frodo only continued to stare, moving to raise a cup to his mouth, sipping tea. 

“I'm sorry Sam,” Frodo murmured, “It's just that I haven't seen it in so long.” He turned and focused his gaze on Sam, smiling with a touch of uncertainty in his eyes. Sam gasped.

“Can you see me?” he asked. Frodo nodded and stepped closer.

“Of course I can,” Frodo said quietly. 

“And are you,” Sam paused, not quite knowing how to put this, “are you a memory?” Frodo reached out and took Sam's hand in his own.

“No. This isn't like the other visions I've shown you,” he said. Sam took a breath, his throat tightening with emotion as he tried to speak.

“Then you're the same Frodo who is with me in the Blessed Land?” he asked. Frodo lifted his gaze and nodded. Sam couldn't help himself, he reached out and embraced the other hobbit. Frodo put his arms around Sam as well. He gasped and tears were in his eyes.

“Sam, I'm so sorry. For losing the language and putting you in danger, and leaving you all those years ago, I hurt you so, and... oh all of it,” he breathed. Sam snorted. He hadn't meant to.

“Go on, that's all past,” he said. “And all of it not your fault. T'were fate that we were parted and fate we met again. And I don't blame you for none of the bad things in the past. Don't be thinking such.” He sighed and tightened his grip, adding, “Meeting you again is such a joy.” Frodo drew back, meeting Sam's eyes.

“I love you,” Frodo said quietly. Sam paused, feeling himself flushing with pleasure.

“And I love you,” he said. Frodo's gaze softened.

“Last night,” he said, his voice dropping away, “was it alright?” Sam blinked and regarded the other hobbit.

“Aye,” he said and let a moment pass before adding, “you don't know what it meant to me. To love you like that.” Frodo's expression warmed and he drew closer.

“I never wanted to shock you with this,” he said quietly. 

“Shock me?” Sam laughed. “My dear, after all I’ve seen and done, this wasn't all that shocking.” He sobered and squeezed Frodo's hand, “I’ve felt those things for you too. For a long time. I just didn’t know what to do with those feelings.”

“Do you now?”

“Oh yes,” Sam murmured, heat in his voice. Frodo smiled.

“Then you might want to do it again?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Sam said solemnly, “very much so.” 

“Oh I am glad.”

The walls paled and Sam glanced around, slightly alarmed. Frodo gripped his shoulders.

“It's alright. This won't be the last time we speak like this.” His hand came up to brush Sam's hair. “Were you happy?”

“Yes. I was happy,” Sam said softly. Frodo's smile widened. 

“And are you happy now?”

“Yes. Oh yes,” Sam gasped as tears sprang to his eyes. Frodo cupped his cheeks and lay a kiss to his forehead.

“Then I can let go of the last of my pain.”

Sam gasped as his vision faded.

⁂

There was warmth on his cheek and the sound of water sliding over stone. Sam slowly came awake and opened his eyes. He was in Frodo’s little room and the window was open. Sun filtered in and warmed his cheek and ear, as he listened to the creek outside the window. Best of all, Frodo was warm behind him, his arms around Sam, holding him, and their hands were clasped. Frodo groaned a little and sat up.

“Good morning,” he said softly. Sam took a breath and turned over. Frodo smiled at him and down to kiss his cheek. 

“ _Gi suilon,_ ” Sam said. They watched one another for a long moment, until Sam sat up and kissed him properly. 

⁂

Sam rested his cheek against Frodo's shoulder as Frodo's hand came up and rubbed his back. They were outside, having tea in the sunshine. Frodo chuckled in his ear and let out a string of soft words. Across from them, Bilbo snorted. Frodo lifted his head and snapped something back at him. Bilbo sipped his tea and made a small retort, before meeting Sam's eyes.

“What are you saying to him?” Sam asked. Bilbo laughed.

“It's just nonsense. We're being rude to each other.”

“Oh now,” Sam murmured and nuzzled Frodo's shoulder as Frodo put his arms around him, “how can you be rude to him?”

“Very easily,” Bilbo sniffed and slipped back into Elvish to deliver another blow. Frodo huffed and tightened his embrace as he let loose another stream of sharp words, ending with an exclamation of, “Bad hobbit! Be nice.”

“ _Baw! Lasto al lalaith nín!_ I’ll be as bad as I like,” Bilbo growled. 

Sam felt Frodo lean down and kiss his ear. He hummed in approval.

“I guess I ought not complain though,” Sam sighed, “whatever you're saying to him, Mr. Bilbo, it's making him friendly.” Bilbo laughed. Frodo asked a question, probably asking for a translation. Sam closed his eyes as Bilbo answered, and focused on the movement of Frodo's hand along his back, moving up and down. 

“Sam.” 

Sam opened his eyes and looked up to see Frodo smiling down at him. He met his eyes and Frodo smiled, adding “I love you.” Sam felt a wash of pleasure at his words and sat up. He put his arms around Frodo and lifted his face up to kiss him. He drew back and watched Frodo's eyes sparkled in delight.

“I love you too,” Sam said softly adding, “ _Gi uivelin, muin nín,_ ” Frodo closed his eyes and touched his forehead to Sam's before pulling him back into an embrace. Sam sent a slightly self conscious look over at Bilbo, who was watching them with fondness. Sam felt his cheeks go hot and he put his face against Frodo's shoulder as Bilbo chuckled.

This all felt so familiar- the warm back and forth, the love, the teasing, the laughter. These were the sounds of a hobbit family. Sam gazed up and saw the wicked flash in Frodo’s eyes as he hurled some barb at Bilbo. Bilbo burst out laughing and Sam felt himself smiling. Frodo glanced down at him and Sam studied the light in Frodo’s eyes. It was a light that he’d known before the hard times, and it was a light that he had missed in all the time since. It had returned. 

Sam had left the Shire long behind but he didn’t need rolling hills to call a place home. Home was here, in this strange land, in the ringing sound of Bilbo’s laughter and in the sparkle of light in Frodo’s eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma, anin gell nîn: Yes, please/ for my joy
> 
> Á tulë sinomë: Come here
> 
> Ma: Yes
> 
> Gi suilon: [informal greeting]
> 
> Baw! Lasto al lalaith nín!: No! Listen to my laughter!
> 
> Gi uivelin, muin nín: I’ll always love you, my dear


End file.
